


A Night Sky With No Stars

by ararlynn



Category: Firebringer - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Arson, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, Slow Burn, be gay do crimes, no smut but it gets heated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-03-08 09:57:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 19,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18892306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ararlynn/pseuds/ararlynn
Summary: Zazzalil isn't going to stop starting fires even if she gets hurt, so Jemilla will just have to keep saving her even if Zazzalil doesn't want to take the help.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone knows how to get rid of the double space quickly when copy pasting from docs to ao3 please tell me i'm so desperate but until i learn how to do that without going through it manually there's gonna be a double enter between every paragraph i'm sorry ily thanks for giving this story a chance

Zazzalil looked up to the sky above her, dark and black. There was no cloud in sight, but neither were any stars. Or the moon, for that matter. Zazzalil let herself briefly wonder why the sky was so empty, until she looked over and saw the fire raging higher and brighter just outside of her tucked alleyway. Sirens blared louder and closer with each passing moment.

 

The calm after her rage was always the hardest part of this mess she got herself into. Getting caught starting a fire was always a strange experience; never fun, never exciting, just painfully exhausting. It also goes without saying that her parents weren’t too thrilled getting those phone calls late at night.

 

The sirens were sounding louder as Zazzalil sank further down onto the concrete. Her cozy little alleyway was littered with trash and empty cardboard boxes, and Zazzalil always hid tucked between a few boxes and a dumpster. She hadn’t yet been caught since she found the alley, but with every new fire she starts, the more it feels like she’s going straight to prison.

 

The fire continued burning outside of the alley like a deadly bonfire. Despite the hot warmth of it, almost enough to burn her even without contact, Zazzalil felt herself shiver. Maybe it was the fear of being caught, or maybe she was too used to the heat to feel it anymore.

 

Footsteps started pounding on the ground at the other end of the alley, making Zazzalil’s hilted, laboured breaths catch in her throat. She pulled her legs as close to her chest as she could manage, shutting her eyes tight as if the footsteps would go away, but they didn’t stop coming.

 

The steps grew louder and louder until they sounded like rumbling thunder, or maybe that was just her heart beating like drums in her ears. The feeling of it pumping in her chest was starting to become almost painful. She was about to go to jail, wasn't she? She knew she should’ve just stopped years ago with burning old homework.

 

As if someone had pressed mute on the alley, the footsteps stopped just a few inches away from Zazzalil. Zazzalil’s eyes pulled themselves open forcefully and bolted up to look at the unexpected visitor just as her hand lurched up to slam over her mouth.

 

“Who-” was all it took to make Zazzalil’s heart rate both beat faster and stop suddenly in her chest. She knew that voice. She knew that voice and she did not appreciate its presence in her private alley. “Wait, Zazzalil?”

 

Zazzalil hugged her knees closer until it felt like she was suffocating. She stared down at her torn up converse shoes, given that they’re the only thing she currently wanted to focus on. “Hi, Jemilla.”

 

She could just barely see Jemilla crouching down on the ground in front of her and attempt to make eye contact, but Zazzalil pointedly avoided it. She could see a glimpse of Jemilla’s skirt, illuminated by the fire. “What are you doing? There’s a fire burning just out there, you know you could get hurt.”

 

Zazzalil resisted the impulse to roll her eyes and instead leaned her head on the cracked wall behind her. The sky above was still a blank chalkboard. “What I’m doing here is _my_ business. What are _you_ doing?”

 

Jemilla successfully made eye contact with Zazzalil for just a moment, but Zazzalil turned away before she could see the fear in her eyes. What if Jemilla told someone where she was? Zazzalil was in enough trouble as it was. “I was out for a walk when I saw the fire and heard sirens. I wanted to make sure no one was hurt.”

 

_Of course_ , Zazzalil thought. It was such a ‘Jemilla’ thing to do. “It’s pretty stupid of you to go out alone at night, I didn’t know student council presidents had that kind of bravery.”

 

“What’s more stupid than me going out alone is that you’re hiding alone next to a dumpster in an alleyway. You’re not even trying to get help or go somewhere safer,” Jemilla said. She got up from where she was crouched, but didn’t go anywhere. “Come on.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“I said, come on. I know we don’t talk a lot, but safety is important to me and I don’t want anyone to be in danger if I can stop it.” Jemilla’s hand reached out, palm open. Zazzalil stared at it. “Come _on_.”

 

“Do you have an ulterior motive? You don’t need to help me. I’m fine on my own. I’m not a damsel in distress, and I don’t need miss honor student to save me.” The bright and warm colors faded out of vision as the fire seemingly started to die out. “And the fire’s not even that dangerous now.”

 

Jemilla’s hand stayed where it was. “Fire is and always will be completely dangerous.”

 

Zazzalil didn’t respond for a few beats. “Maybe I like the danger of it.”

 

Jemilla laughed, though it was forced and sounded more like a sneer than anything else. “Of course you do. But I don’t like the danger of it. And you’re definitely coming with me now.” Jemilla’s hand reached out and her warm fingers wrapped around Zazzalil’s bicep.

 

“Hey! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Zazzalil barked as Jemilla pulled her off the ground in one swift, almost too easy motion. Zazzalil stumbled forward a few steps and then lurched back. She ripped her arm out of Jemilla’s scalding and stifling grip. “Don’t touch me.”

 

“You’re up now,” Jemilla said, ignoring Zazzalil’s sharp response. “So, now you’re going to tell me where you live, and then I can walk you home.”

 

“I - what?! I don’t need you to _walk me home_! You’re pretty fucking dense for a straight A student.” Zazzalil caught Jemilla’s stare, suddenly feeling self-conscious of her torn outfit. “Are you checking me out? I knew there was an ulterior motive.”

 

Jemilla sighed in defeat. “No, Zazzalil, I am not checking you out, and there is no ulterior motive here. I’m wondering what you’ve been doing to get your clothes so mangled and ripped. And - wait, Zazzalil, are those burn marks?”

 

And Zazzalil, the idiot she was, didn’t have a reasonable response for that. Her brain raced and spun with possible stories other than ‘all the fires I start burn my clothes and I fall over when running from the scene of arson’. Instead, “I’m clumsy,” was the best she could come up with.

 

“Sure, but if those are actually burn marks, then you’re definitely coming with me. You’ve been burned at some point, and I bet it was out here, given there’s fires every few nights in this town. Where’s your house?” Jemilla reached out and linked her arm with Zazzalil, who pulled away immediately, almost stumbling.

 

“Will you leave me alone if I tell you?” Because she really didn’t want their conversation to continue any longer than it already had.

 

“After I successfully walk you up to the doorstep, I’ll leave you to your own devices.”

 

Zazzalil ran her hand over her face with as much dramatic exasperation that she could manage. “Fine. Fine, okay. But don’t talk to me tomorrow at school, or I swear to God I’m going to stab someone.”

 

So Zazzalil leads Jemilla to the door of her shitty apartment. Jemilla looks Zazzalil right in the eye as Zazzalil’s hand rests on the doorknob, her shadow looming over Zazzalil’s smaller figure. She smiled gently, patting Zazzalil’s shoulder. “Stay safe.”

 

Jemilla turns right around and leaves without a second glance back, letting Zazzalil stare at Jemilla’s shrinking figure in the distance. The crackling fire burns out almost to the ground as the stars finally light up the sky for just one fleeting moment.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zazzalil goes to school in the morning like usual, and it strayed from the schedule less than ten minutes later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear the story really kicks off in the next chapter  
> these chapters are shorter than i usually write since i tend to write oneshots more than actual multichapter fics so i'm sorry if you think these are too short because i do too but if i wrote longer chapters i'd probably end up with one chapter that's like 10k words long while the others are 1k so i mean

It was no surprise that Zazzalil didn’t like school. One look at her grades and her general track record with teachers could tell you that going to school every morning was simply not the life Zazzalil was fit for.

 

But still, Zazzalil went to school every morning like everyone else, but it was really only to see her best friend. Keeri had been at her side since middle school, and as seniors Keeri was showing no signs of leaving Zazzalil anytime soon.

 

“Hey, Keeri,” Zazzalil said as she dropped her bag on the floor beside Keeri’s locker.

 

“Hey, Zazz!” Keeri put her phone in the pocket of her jeans and turned to face Zazzalil. “Woah, you look, like, well rested. Did you  _ actually _ get sleep?”

 

Zazzalil leaned against the array of lockers, smiling thinly as she remembered the events of the night previous. “Yeah, more than usual. I went to sleep at around midnight.”

 

Keeri looked like she was about to combust. “What! You usually go to sleep at like, three, right?!” Keeri paused as Zazzalil nodded. “Oh my God. Zazz, you got three more hours of sleep than usual. This is insane.”

 

“Well, my nightly escapades were interrupted.” Keeri knew about Zazzalil’s strange obsession with committing arson, and as her best friend she promised not to say anything to anyone about it. She  _ did _ have various attempts of trying to get her out of it, though.

 

“By what? Or who?” Keeri asked, making Zazzalil sigh dramatically. “Oh my God,  _ who _ ?”

 

“The one and only Jemilla,” Zazzalil almost mumbled. She gave Keeri a half-assed smile and ran her hand over her face, as if her crimes being interrupted by the most popular girl in school were something to be ashamed about. 

 

Keeri laughed out loud, turning the heads of a few other students in the hallway. “Oh my God. This is the best thing that has ever happened. So, like, Jemilla  _ knows _ you do it, then?”

 

“No.” Zazzalil looked around to make sure no one could listen in. “She doesn’t know I started the fire. She just thinks I was hiding in an alleyway at eleven o’clock at night for no reason.”

  
Just as Keeri opened her mouth to respond, someone called out Zazzalil’s name.

 

“Oh my God,” Zazzalil muttered as she turned to see Jemilla running through the hallway to her. “Jemilla, I  _ told _ you…”

 

“Zazzalil, you can’t expect me to just let you go.” Jemilla interrupted, handing Zazzalil a slip of paper. “Here, it’s my phone number. I want you to call or text me whenever you’re in danger.”

 

Zazzalil ignored Keeri’s stifled laughter behind her. “I’m not going to do that.”

 

“Yes, you are. Because even if we don’t like each other, I am held responsible for the safety of each and every one of my peers. There’s no way you’re getting hurt if I can do something about it.”

 

And for the second time in less than twelve hours, Zazzalil didn’t have a proper response for that. “Fine! Although I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with me.”

 

“I’m not obsessed with you. Zazzalil, if I’m honest, I don’t even like you. Literally all I want is for you to not get hurt. And with all the fires that keep getting set in our town, it’s going to be hard, especially if you’re always that close to the scene. If what you said is true last night and you really do like the danger, then just promise that you’ll play it safe and not get hurt when you’re  _ enjoying _ it,” Jemilla said it all in, at most, three breaths, and by that point everyone in the hallway was staring.

 

Zazzalil took the slip of paper from Jemilla’s hand and crushed it into her hoodie pocket. Never one to like attention, she started to leave the hallway, muttering a quick, “I gotta get to class,” and leaving Keeri and Jemilla to watch her go.

 

-

 

The morning had gone by without a hitch, and before she knew it, she was sat in the cafeteria with Keeri. Their school was smaller than most others in the area, and so there tended to be only one lunch period for every grade in the high school.

 

“You want some of  _ my _ food?” Keeri was asking. She always brought a bag of nuts to school while Zazzalil didn’t usually bring anything, and God help her if she ever ordered school lunch.

 

Zazzalil inspected Keeri’s food. “What kind of nuts are they?”

 

“Pistachios.”

 

Zazzalil thought about it for a second, then opened her hand to Keeri. “Okay, give me some.”

 

Keeri dumped a handful of pistachios into Zazzalil’s hand, then stared at the rest of the cafeteria. “Zazz, do you ever think about how we’re almost done?”

 

Zazzalil didn’t respond.

 

“Like, we’re seniors. It’s November. Not even by the end of May, we’re going to be done with school. Forever. We’re almost home free.”

 

Zazzalil rolled her eyes. “Just means I have more free time to commit crimes.”

 

“That reminds me… you really need to stop. You’ve already been caught once by the police, and I don’t have enough money to bail you out again. And, don’t you think that after being caught once, the cops are going to assume it’s you every time?”

 

“No, I don’t think that. It was one time.”

 

“And our town has a population of, like, one thousand.”

 

“The population is closer to ten thousand. Maybe above that.”

 

“That doesn’t matter. You’re the only one who has been caught. With all the fires, it’s only natural that people assume it’s you.

 

Zazzalil chose not to respond as she felt fear rise in her chest - Keeri had a point. It was natural for everyone to assume it was her who was starting the fires, but she started committing arson to free her stress, and she didn’t know any other way to help herself.

 

The bell rang after a few minutes of silence, and Zazzalil looks up to face Keeri. “We should probably get going now. I’ll - I’ll think about ways to quit.”

 

Keeri quickly pressed her forehead to Zazzalil’s. “I’m proud of you already. Now we really  _ should _ go, I have a test in like, five minutes.”

 

So Zazzalil and Keeri get up and go their separate ways, and Zazzalil feels more lost in the hallways than ever before.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zazzalil's final period of the day doesn't go how she hoped it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry i can't stop writing chapters i'm a mess  
> also ik not many people have read this but would y'all read a oneshot that's like really fucking long but it's only one chapter bc i wrote a jazzalil fic like that some time ago and it's pretty good but it's all one part and it's super long so

Zazzalil walked into her final period class with high hopes for the end of the day, but her attitude turned sour the second she saw Jemilla sat talking to her friends across the room.

 

This class was technically Theatre History, but the teacher tended to just ramble on about something or other for the entire period, very occasionally giving the class actual lessons. What Zazzalil forgot about this class was how Jemilla was in it.

 

Taking a seat as far away from Jemilla as physically possible, Zazzalil rested her head on the table, making sure her arms were covering her face.

 

Apparently, she wasn’t doing a very good job at staying hidden, as she heard the chair beside her pull out a few minutes later and someone sat beside her. “Zazzalil.”

 

Zazzalil took a deep breath and sat up, seeing with dread (unsurprised dread, but dread nonetheless) that it was Jemilla. “What the fuck do you want.”

 

“Well, I want to know why you were out at night when there was a fire. I also want to know why you’re not in your usual spot, why your head was down, why you seem to not be listening to me right now. I want to know many things.”

 

“And I want to know why you just abandoned your friends over there,” Zazzalil pointed out, looking across the room and seeing four of Jemilla’s friends chatting away.

 

“They can entertain themselves.”

 

“Right.”

 

Jemilla pulled her chair closer to the table and leaned her elbows on the top of it. “I thought Keeri was in Theatre History?”

 

“She was in last period’s class. Why do you care? And why do you know my usual seat?” Because Zazzalil couldn’t help but think about how Jemilla knew where Zazzalil typically sat.

 

“Just curious. And I know where pretty much everyone sits in all my classes.”

 

“Is stalking your peers a student council job or is it just a hobby?”

 

Jemilla rolled her eyes, and Zazzalil smirked in triumph. Annoying Jemilla wasn’t how she expected to spend her final period of the day, but she wasn’t complaining.

 

There was a tense aura surrounding the two, so Zazzalil was relieved when the teacher started speaking. “Alright, class, today we’re going to start something different. I found this idea online last night and I thought it might be fun, so we’re doing a group project until Christmas break.”

 

The class collectively groaned, so the teacher raised his hand to quiet them. “Relax, it’s just a partner project.”

 

Jemilla raised her hand. “Mr. Hidgens?”

 

“Yes, Jemilla.”

 

“Do we get to choose our partners or do you have them pre-picked?” Jemilla was really the only one in the class who asked questions, and Hidgens seemed to not care about it. He did seem to play favourites though, and Jemilla was definitely a favourite.

 

“Good question. Um,” Mr. Hidgens scanned the classroom. “Whoever you’re sitting next to will be your partner.”

 

Jemilla turned to look at Zazzalil right when Zazzalil did the same, and although Zazzalil glared, Jemilla just smiled.

 

“Now, the project is going to be you and your partner conducting research on one playwright in history that I assign you and making a presentation about them. It’s due about a few days before break, those last days being spent doing presentations. I’ll be handing out a rubric with more in-depth instructions in a minute. Any questions?”

 

No one raised their hand, so Hidgens nodded. “Alright, just a second.”

 

As Hidgens passed around the rubrics to every partnership in the room, Jemilla turned over in her seat to face Zazzalil. “Who are you hoping we get to research?”

 

“Um,” Zazzalil knew more about playwrights than she probably should, but at the moment, her mind ran blank. “I don’t care.”

 

Hidgens handed a paper between Zazzalil and Jemilla, and Jemilla took it automatically. “Okay, so we need to research their most famous productions, their personal life, their inspirations, and write a short scene in their style of play.”

 

“What? A short scene?”

 

“That’s what it says.”

 

Hidgens walked back up to the front of the room, pulling out a piece of paper. “I have a list of playwrights here, and I’ll just be assigning in order of groups, so I don’t really choose what groups get what.” He started naming playwrights while saying partnerships. Zazzalil zoned out until he started naming the people closer to her and Jemilla., starting with Jemilla’s friends, who were on the other side of the room.

 

“Ducker and SB, Henrik Ibsen. Chorn and Tiblyn, Anton Chekhov. Zazzalil and Jemilla-” A few heads turned at the mention of the strange pairing, but Zazzalil ignored them. “-William Shakespeare.”

 

Jemilla excitedly turned to Zazzalil. “This’ll be easy! Shakespeare is probably the most famous playwright in history, in terms of how well his works are known. You know him, right?”

 

Zazzalil stared in disbelief. “What do you take me for, a rock? No shit, I know who Shakespeare is.”

 

“Sorry, that was kind of dumb. I just don’t know how much you know about plays.”

 

“I made it into Theatre History, and you need to pass Theatre to get into this class. I think I know something or other about plays. Also, literally everyone knows who Shakespeare is.”

 

Jemilla ran her hand through her hair, smiling awkwardly. “Sorry. You’re right, that was stupid of me. Um, so how do you want to work on this? Should we meet up or just work in school?”

 

The thought of meeting up outside of school with Jemilla made Zazzalil want to bang her head against the table. “Just in school.”

 

“Okay, but if we ever do need to meet up, you still have my number.” Right. Zazzalil forgot about that. The slip of paper was still crumpled up and laying in Zazzalil’s pocket.

 

“I don’t think we’ll need to meet up outside of school.”

 

“Unless you learn to stay inside at night, we’re going to meet up outside of school regardless.”

 

Zazzalil narrowed her eyes, but Jemilla only shrugged in response. The tense silence was back.

 

Finally, Zazzalil leaned back in her chair. “I don’t like you.”

 

“I know.”

 

“And you don’t like me.”

 

“I do not.”

 

Zazzalil looked at Jemilla from the corner of her eye. “So why do you care so much about my safety? You are under no obligation to help me.”

 

“I already told you why, how many times do you want me to say it?”

 

“Clearly, once more.”

 

Jemilla groaned, but complied. “I care about helping people, Zazzalil. How hard is that to understand? I don’t like you, but you’re only human. I can’t let anyone get hurt if I can help it.”

 

Zazzalil sighed under her breath, hoping Jemilla couldn’t hear it. She understood Jemilla, but at the same time, she didn’t. She understood that Jemilla wanted to help, and why, but Jemilla was paying far too close of attention to Zazzalil. They didn’t like each other, but still Jemilla was trying to get her out of danger.

 

“I have Keeri. Keeri can help me, I don’t need you to baby me.”

 

“You didn’t have Keeri last night.”

 

“And I wasn’t hurt last night, was I?”

 

“Your clothes were ruined. And you’re wearing that same hoodie. Do you see how torn and burnt that thing is?”

 

The hoodie was a gift from Keeri, and although it was unrecognizable when compared to what it originally looked like, it was still dear to Zazzalil. “I do see that it’s ruined. But maybe I like it despite that.”

 

Jemilla stared at her for a second, before she sighed and reached into her bag, pulling out her laptop. “I’m going to start research.”

 

The rest of the period was spent in silence. Zazzalil only looked up from her notebook every few minutes while Jemilla worked. It was tense and uncomfortable, and Zazzalil knew it would be a long month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did a project in sixth grade about shakespeare's poems and all i remember is that he was a bisexual icon


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zazzalil's night doesn't go the way she thought it would, but that seems to be the normal now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i need to stop editing  
> and also i need to stop posting right after i finish editing the chapter i have a total of zero chapters prewritten please bear with me

The door to Zazzalil’s apartment slammed shut as her parents left her alone. They were only home for a few hours in the day, typically not there at night, and typically not there in the morning. Only for a little while in the afternoon.

 

It was around seven at night as Zazzalil lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, lit cigarette in hand. She didn’t like the taste, but she liked to burn things with them.

 

Her phone lit up beside her, so she turned to look, seeing that it was a text from Keeri.

 

“ _ You text Jemilla yet?” _

 

Zazzalil rolled her eyes, quickly tapping out a response. “ _ I’m not going to _ .”

 

But the thought of texting Jemilla lingered - should she text her or just leave it be? Clearly, Keeri expected her to, and Zazzalil wasn’t going to lie and say she wasn’t curious about what would happen if she did text Jemilla - but still, she definitely did not want to.

 

“ _ You should, just say ‘hey it’s Zazz’ or something. You never know if you’ll need to text her at some point.” _

 

_ “Please tell me why the hell I would need to text Jemilla. _ ”

 

“ _ At least add her number in your phone _ .”

 

Zazzalil sighed, but decided that Keeri was right. She should add Jemilla’s number to her phone, just in case she did end up needing it.

 

So she entered the number on the paper into her phone, titling her contact “ _ arson buddy _ ” just to be sarcastic.

 

She stared at the screen for a second longer than she maybe should have before she decided that, fine, whatever, she  _ should _ text Jemilla. So, she crushed her lit cigarette into the ashtray beside her bed and spent the next ten minutes constructing a message.

 

Eventually, she finally came up with a message that seemed right. “ _ Hey, it’s Zazzalil. Keeri suggested I text you. This doesn’t mean anything. _ ”

 

A few minutes later, Zazzalil received a response.  _ “Well, Keeri’s smart to suggest that! I’m glad you decided to text me. Are you going out tonight? _ ”

 

“ _ I might _ .”

 

“ _ If there’s a fire again I expect you to text me. And I can see pretty much all the town from my windows, so if I don’t get a text from you I’m going out to find you. _ ”

 

“ _ That’s unnecessary _ .”

 

“ _ It’s absolutely necessary, miss Zazzalil. I care for your safety whether you want me to or not. _ ”

 

Zazzalil stared at the text for a while. There it was again - Jemilla saying she cares about her safety. “ _ Why do you keep saying that? _ ”

 

“ _ Because it’s the truth. _ ”

 

“ _ Right. I’m going to stop talking to you now. Don’t miss me too much. _ ”

 

“ _ I’ll manage. See you tomorrow! _ ”

 

Zazzalil let the message be without responding, thinking long and hard about the conversation that just ensued. If Zazzalil does go set a fire tonight, she has no choice but to text Jemilla unless she wants Jemilla to find her - which is  _ not _ , as a matter of fact, what she wants.

 

So, Zazzalil decides that no, she’s not going to start a fire tonight.

 

-

 

That goal seemed easy when she thought of it, but when ten o’clock rolled around, all she wanted to do was leave her apartment and go set something on fire.

 

It wasn’t the thought process she thought she’d have when she was younger, but now that she had been starting fires for years, the thought seemed to come naturally.

 

So Zazzalil was now running out into the cold autumn air, hoodie tucked close, phone in one hand, box of matches in the other.

 

Maybe she should just burn something small, so Jemilla couldn’t see it, but her head was pounding with a headache she didn’t even know she had. What if she set an entire building on fire? What would happen then?

 

Of course, she would never do that. She might love setting fires, but she didn’t want to cause anyone harm. The night before, she had set a shrub on fire, and that had caused a domino effect, inevitably burning up a few trees with it. It was one of the biggest fires that she’d ever set, so it was no wonder Jemilla wanted to see what was going on.

 

And now Zazzalil was aware that she was thinking of Jemilla. Her head pounded again.

 

She tried to stop thinking of her, but the thought of Jemilla still lingered. Would Jemilla be disappointed in her if she learned that she was the one who set the fires? Jemilla was trying to save her from it, but she didn’t know it was all Zazzalil’s doing.

 

Zazzalil made it to her alleyway before she knew she was there. She hadn’t set any fires, but she was already hiding away.

 

What if she got caught again? Keeri couldn’t pay her bail again, her parents were out of the question, and there was nothing more terrifying to Zazzalil than going to jail.

 

Before Zazzalil could comprehend what she was doing, she was sat on the ground, tucked against the wall, pulling her phone out.

 

It was eleven already. When had it turned to that time? Last she checked, it was ten. Why did she have her phone out anyway?

 

Her hands typed without thinking, and before she knew it she was composing a text to Jemilla. “ _ Come get me. _ ”

 

She got a text back less than a minute later. “ _ Where are you? What’s wrong? _ ”

 

Zazzalil’s heart started beating faster, so she shut her eyes tight for a second. “ _ Alleyway _ .”

 

Zazzalil didn’t get a response, which left her to drop her phone on the ground and hug her knees tight to her chest. What was going on? She hadn't felt like this in so long. Was it what she was doing or what she wasn’t doing? Should she start a fire now?

 

Her head and heart pounded in a contradicting rhythm. Her eyes pressed closed tight until they were almost in pain, but still, it didn’t block anything out. Her breathing was out of tune and fast, breaths leaving her shallowly.

 

She didn’t notice that Jemilla was running up to her until she felt her warm hands press up to her biceps. “Zazzalil! Zazzalil, can you hear me?”

 

Zazzalil stared up to meet Jemilla’s eyes. She listened to Jemilla’s voice again. “Zazzalil? Blink twice if you can hear me.” Zazzalil blinked twice.

 

She didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. Was she dreaming? Was this a dream?

 

“Come here,” Jemilla muttered, pulling herself closer to Zazzalil and pulling her close to her body. Jemilla radiated warmth, and Zazzalil didn’t like that she noticed that, no she did not.

 

How did she get into this situation again? One second she was running and the next she was huddled with Jemilla in an alley.

 

“You can still hear me, right?” Jemilla paused as Zazzalil nodded a little bit. “Where are you right now? Just trust me.”

 

Zazzalil didn’t know where she was for a second, but eventually mumbled out, “alley.”

 

“And can you tell me what you can hear right now?”

 

“Um…” Zazzalil paid attention to her surroundings for a while. “You, the wind, cars… um…”

 

“No, that’s good. Do you feel anything?”

 

“You.”

 

Jemilla didn’t answer, only pressed Zazzalil closer to her. Zazzalil could hear Jemilla’s heartbeat, and mentally added that to the list of things she could hear.

 

“How are you feeling right now?”

 

“...Better. Thank you,” Zazzalil mumbled it, and she intended to pull herself out of Jemilla’s grasp, but she didn’t. It was Jemilla who pushed her away.

 

“I’ll walk you back up to your apartment, come on.” Jemilla stood up, taking Zazzalil with her.

 

Together, Jemilla and Zazzalil walked to the apartment. When they reached the doorstep, Jemilla hugged Zazzalil tight. “Thanks for texting me,” she whispered, then before Zazzalil knew what was going on, she was alone again.

  
So maybe texting Jemilla  _ was _ a good idea, after all.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zazzalil's day at school goes awry, but is that really surprising at this point?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how do you write summaries

Zazzalil woke up the next morning with a headache and a healthy distaste for the day that awaited her. She still had no idea what the  _ actual hell _ the night previous was all about, and seeing Jemilla after that was the absolute worst thing she could think of.

 

Still, at the very least, it was a Thursday. Only two more days of school and she’d have two days to herself to get her mind off of Jemilla - and on fires. Maybe. She had now gone a full day without starting any fires, and she was finding that it wasn’t as hard as she thought.

 

That thought terrified her.

 

Instead of dwelling on that, she got up and started preparing for school.

 

-

 

“Hiya, Zazz!” Keeri called as Zazzalil trudged over to her, mind still set on Jemilla and fires. “What’s wrong? You look upset.”

 

“Fucking Jemilla.”

 

Keeri stifled a laugh, and Zazzalil knew what was coming before Keeri could even mumble out a, “you fucked Jemilla?”

 

“No, Keeri, I did  _ not _ fuck Jemilla. I would never even want to fuck Jemilla.”

 

“I mean, hasn’t everyone at least thought of it before?”

 

“You want to fuck Jemilla?”

 

“Kind of.”

 

“Okay.” Zazzalil took a deep breath, pushing the conversation into the back of her mind. She could use it to laugh at later on. “Anyway, I freaked out last night when I went out to go set a fire and texted Jemilla for some reason, and she came to get me and helped me out and walked me home. I don’t know what it was about.”

 

Keeri leaned against the locker beside her. “What do you mean by ‘panicked’? Like, what did you do?”

 

“Um…” Zazzalil thought about it for a minute. She didn’t remember much from last night, especially during her little episode, but she still had the general gist of it. “Well, my heart was beating fast, I couldn’t focus, I was breathing really weird-like… stuff like that.”

 

Keeri stared down at her. “Zazzalil. I think you had a panic attack.”

 

“What?”

 

Zazzalil could only ponder that thought for a second until she heard Jemilla calling her name. She didn’t like how she could now recognize Jemilla’s voice, but she supposed it was just a long week. Or just a long two days.

 

“Are you feeling alright today?” Jemilla spoke in a low voice, mindful of the people around them.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just forget about last night. It’s not important.”

 

“It  _ is  _ important…” Jemilla trailed off when Zazzalil shot her a glare. “But, okay. I’ll leave you alone now. See you in eighth period.”

 

Jemilla pat Zazzalil’s shoulder as she walked by, and Zazzalil rolled her eyes, turning back to face Keeri. “She treats me like a baby.”

 

“Well, sometimes you act like a baby.”

 

“ _ Excuse _ me?”

 

Keeri smiled, but it seemed to be fake. “Sorry, Zazz. We should get to class.”

 

-

 

After the morning fiasco, the day passed by with no complications. She completely forgot about Jemilla’s babying and Keeri’s comment, instead focusing on her schoolwork and her doodles in the margins.

 

That is, until eighth period.

 

Zazzalil walked in, suddenly aware of just what they were doing. Jemilla was sat in the same seat as the day before, and at the sound of Zazzalil’s entrance, she looked up and smiled.

 

As Zazzalil sat beside her, Jemilla pulled her laptop out. “Are you going to help me work today?”

 

Zazzalil really didn’t want to do any extra work than she already had to (which was none), but she felt just a little guilty about not doing anything to help Jemilla in the project. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

 

“Get your laptop out,” Jemilla ordered as she logged on. “I shared a Google Doc with you yesterday with the research on it.”

 

Following Jemilla’s instructions, Zazzalil took her laptop from her bag and logged on, and soon saw that yes, Jemilla did share a Doc with her.

 

The file contained various copy pasted paragraphs, captioned with links from articles. It was  _ very _ organized, with headers sorting the paragraphs into groups together. Did Jemilla do it all the day previous in class or did she work on it at home?

 

“Um. What do you want me to do?” Zazzalil asked.

 

“You can do research on Shakespeare’s personal life, and I can finish up work on his most famous plays. After we both finish our parts, we can research his writing style together and write the short scene.”

 

Zazzalil slammed her head on the keyboard, causing an arrangement of random letters to appear on the Google Doc. When she looked up, she saw Jemilla deleting them.

 

“Just work, Zazzalil.”

 

So they worked in silence for the rest of the period. Jemilla finished her part relatively quick, and ended up helping Zazzalil finish her research as well. By the end of class, both sections were fully researched.

 

“Hey, J-Mills,” Zazzalil began, ignoring how Jemilla rolled her eyes at the nickname. “You know this is due in a month, right? We can take our time on it.”

 

“But you know what’s fun? Having free time. If we want to have time in December to do other things, we should finish this project early. Plus, it’s less stressful.”

 

The bell rang, and Zazzalil started to stand up from her seat. “Okay, well-”

 

“Wait,” Jemilla interrupted, standing as well. “Are we really not going to talk about last night?”

 

“No, we’re not. I don’t know what happened, and you should just forget that it happened.”

 

A few people were staring at them, but they left the second Zazzalil glared at them. She was sure that this conversation sounded wrong without context.

 

“But,” Jemilla leaned on the table. “It  _ did _ happen. And I care about-”

 

“Yes, you care about my safety, I know, I know.”

 

Jemilla sighed. “I really do, though. Why can’t you just accept that someone cares about your health and safety?”

 

“We’re bringing my health into this, now?”

 

Jemilla didn’t respond, making Zazzalil look up to her. Jemilla grabbed her by the arm and lead her to the back of the room, away from the few people still left in the room. Those people included Jemilla’s friends, who just talked amongst themselves.

 

“Zazzalil, I know you’re starting those fires.”

 

Zazzalil could just stare at her in silence, not sure of what she could say about that. She could just lie about it, but she felt like Jemilla would know that she wasn’t telling the truth. She opened her mouth, but then closed it again. Her mouth was dry.

 

Jemilla’s hand rested on Zazzalil’s shoulder. Zazzalil didn’t acknowledge it for a while, but when she did, she didn’t do anything about it. “How?”

 

“You left your matches on the ground. And after I thought about it, I connected the dots. It’s really the only thing that could make sense.”

 

There was a lump in Zazzalil’s throat, and her heart started beating. “Sorry,” is all she could murmur before she walked away quickly, slinging her bag around her shoulders, and not bothering to talk to Keeri before she stormed out of the building.

 

She could just deal with this later, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mariah rose faith liked my reply on one of her tweets and it's all i can think about i'm so happy
> 
> i hope you're enjoying the fic so far!


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe having weird days was Zazzalil's new normal. Keeri seems to like it, though, so that's a plus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like this chapter just because i fit a bunch of headcanons into it lmao

“How’s the girlfriend doing?” Keeri asked when Zazzalil walked up to her on Friday morning. Zazzalil glared.

 

“If you’re talking about Jemilla, I don’t know why you still think we’re dating. I don’t know if you’ve noticed that we kind of hate each other.”

 

“Just a rough patch! Anyway, you didn’t talk to me after school yesterday. What was up with that?”

 

Zazzalil buried her face in her hands, taking a deep breath. “It’s Jemilla.” Before Keeri could make a snarky remark about it, Zazzalil lifted her head and kept talking. “She knows I’m an arsonist.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Keeri pat Zazzalil on the back awkwardly, never one to be very good at comforting others. Zazzalil laughed grimly. “She told me in Theatre History yesterday. I don’t know what to do.”

 

Zazzalil was somewhat expecting Jemilla to call her name again, like the past mornings, but it hadn’t come yet. Maybe she was just running late. “What did she tell you?”

 

“She said she found my matches on the ground and then figured it out.” Zazzalil’s voice was bland and almost disgusted, whether it was disgust for herself or Jemilla, she didn’t know for sure.

 

“You realize you’re going to have to talk to her about this? I mean, didn’t you say you were partners on the project the other day?” Keeri asked. Zazzalil had commented to Keeri about it, but she didn’t think Keeri heard. Apparently, she had.

 

“Yeah. But, what if she’s mad at me?”

 

“I don’t think Jemilla would be mad at you. She’s like, the kindest person ever.”

 

“I bet she is.” Zazzalil clicked her tongue. “Wait, you’re in Theatre History too. You never told me who your partner was?”

 

“Oh!” Keeri bounced on the balls of her sneakers. “I’m with Emberly. She came up to me and asked to be my partner.”

 

“Wait, what? Hidgens assigned partners by who you were sitting next to.”

 

“What? He let us pick in our class.”

 

Zazzalil groaned dramatically, leaning her head back onto the locker behind her. “Well, he assigned differently in our class, and now I’m partnered with Jemilla for a month while you get to be with the kid who brings homemade cookies to school every day.”

 

“She doesn’t do that? I don’t know where that rumour started.” Keeri looked around the hallway. “Oh, you know Emberly is in Jemilla’s group of friends, right?”

 

“Oh my God,” Zazzalil said. She had forgotten that Emberly was friends with Jemilla. “Does she talk about Jemilla?”

 

“Awful interested in her, I see. But, no. We just work on the project. Sometimes she does talk about her friends, though. They seem nice, actually.”

 

“Keeri,” Zazzalil said in a warning voice. “You are not going to be friends with Jemilla’s group.”

 

“I have Emberly’s number already, so I’m at one out of however many.”

 

“That’s exactly what I don’t like to hear, thank you.”

 

The bell rang, indicating the class was starting soon. Zazzalil registered somewhere in the back of her mind that she hadn’t seen Jemilla yet. That was weird, but she figured she might be gone today. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

 

“See you at lunch, Zazz,” Keeri said, picking up her bag and heading to class. Zazzalil nodded absentmindedly, and started going to her own first period.

 

-

 

When Zazzalil walked into the cafeteria, she stared at the table she and Keeri usually sat at. Keeri was not there. Zazzalil registered that as very odd, Keeri was always there before her, ever since they became friends.

 

“Zazz!” Someone called, farther into the room. Zazzalil looked to see whose voice it was, but she immediately turned sour. It was Keeri, but she was sitting with Jemilla’s friends.

 

Nevertheless, Zazzalil hurried to sit beside Keeri. Leaning over to her, she whispered harshly, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Keeri?”

 

“Sitting with my new friends,” Keeri smiled innocently, gesturing beside her.

 

Emberly was sat beside Keeri, eating a sandwich that was probably homemade. Emberly looked up at Zazzalil and smiled with a sickening sweetness, scrunching up her nose to push up her glasses.

 

Zazzalil huffed, laying her head down on the table. “Um, Zazzalil, right?” Emberly asked. Zazzalil looked up at her, face probably sour. “Do you want some food? I can give you some of mine.”

 

Curiously, Zazzalil eyed Emberly’s food. It  _ did _ look good. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the rest of the group staring at her. “...What do you have?”

 

“Oh! Um,” Emberly hurriedly looked through her lunch box. “Uh, okay, I have some cookies?”

 

“So you do bring homemade cookies to school,” Zazzalil muttered. “I’ll have some.”

 

Emberly looked excited, passing a few cookies over to Zazzalil. Zazzalil timidly bit into one, not appreciating the attention she was getting from everyone at the table, but that was quickly replaced with euphoria with how  _ damn good the cookie was _ .

 

“Jesus Christ,” Zazzalil murmured, quickly finishing the cookie. She didn’t hesitate to eat the rest of the cookies she was given. 

 

When the cookies were gone, Zazzalil quickly brushed her hand over her mouth, looking around at the rest of the people at the table. Jemilla was not one of them. “Uh, is Jemilla here today?”

 

There was an empty seat beside Zazzalil, and the girl on the other side of the seat chuckled nervously. “Yep, she sure is.”

 

Zazzalil blinked, staring at the girl. “Who are you…?”

 

“Oh, you can just call me Schwoopsie. It’s a nickname.” Schwoopsie laughed to herself, staring at the sandwich in front of her.

 

“Where did it come from?” Zazzalil asked, out of pure curiousity. Just before Schwoopsie could answer, someone sat beside her.

 

“Schwoopsie is a clumsy idiot, but we love her,” Jemilla said, ignoring Zazzalil’s look of pure terror. “Hi, Zazzalil.”

 

Zazzalil had about a hundred questions circling through her head, but she just smiled nervously, fidgeting with her hands. “Hi.”

 

“Zazz and I didn’t see you this morning,” Keeri leaned forward on the table to talk to Jemilla over Zazzalil. “Where were you?”

 

“I see my presence is appreciated among the rogues,” Jemilla says, and Zazzalil has no fucking  _ clue _ what that is supposed to mean, but she doesn’t interrupt. “Student council meeting.”

 

“Oh,” Keeri nods helpfully. “And can your friends introduce yourselves to Zazz and I? Mainly Zazzalil, I want to make her as uncomfortable as possible.”

  
Zazzalil hits Keeri in the arm.

 

“Okay, well,” Emberly starts. “You already know me, I think. I’m Emberly. And this is my boyfriend, Grant-” Emberly leans to the side, resting her head on the boy beside her’s shoulder.

 

“It’s Grunt, actually. My name is Grunt.”

 

They continued introducing themselves in the order that they are sat at the table. Zazzalil learns that the other’s names are Ducker, SB, Tiblyn, Chorn, and then Schwoopsie and Jemilla. She thought that they were pretty weird names, but then again, her name is  _ Zazzalil _ , she’s not one to talk.

 

Zazzalil also learned that Chorn, who is Tiblyn’s partner in Theatre History, is selectively mute. When she learned that, she realized quickly afterwards that the only  _ popular _ person out of the group was Jemilla. If anything, the rest of them were  _ bullied _ more than liked.

 

Zazzalil’s upset attitude towards sitting with Jemilla’s friends faded as she realized she had no reason to dislike any of them, really.

 

“Sorry to ask,” Tiblyn began to say, “but I know you and Jemilla don’t get along. Why is that?”

 

And there was  _ that _ question, too. In truth, Zazzalil had no real reason to dislike Jemilla. If you didn’t count the fact that she was pretty popular, there was nothing to not like about her.

 

“I don’t know,” Jemilla answered after a second. She and Zazzalil looked at each other for a second, before looking away. “I guess we never had a reason  _ to _ get along.”

 

Zazzalil stared at the table, the texture suddenly the most interesting thing in the room.

 

“You should find a reason to get along, because I think you two could be really good friends,” Tiblyn smiled shyly, before turning to look at Chorn. “Chorn and I didn’t like each other at first, but we’re really close now.”

 

Neither Jemilla or Zazzalil responded to that, but the bell rang before they had a chance to. Jemilla caught Zazzalil’s eye for a second, but Zazzalil left with Keeri before anything else could happen.

 

She felt Jemilla’s stare on her back long after she left the cafeteria.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zazzalil? Having a good day? Somewhat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know why i keep adding summaries i've started liking them lmao
> 
> little shorter of a chapter this time but i like it so :/

“Hey!” Jemilla called when Zazzalil walked into Theatre History at the end of the day. Zazzalil stared at her without responding, but Jemilla didn’t seem to care. Zazzalil sat beside her at the table and took her laptop out. “Should we talk about yesterday?”

 

“Nope.” Zazzalil’s chest tightened just thinking about it - sure, she didn’t like Jemilla, but the thought of Jemilla being mad at her for being a  _ fucking arsonist _ just rubbed her the wrong way.

 

“Can’t we at least talk about it on our Google Doc?”

 

Zazzalil sighed quietly. “Fine.”

 

A few minutes later, both Zazzalil and Jemilla were staring at the Google Doc, neither starting a conversation. Zazzalil’s eyes kept drifting up to Jemilla’s profile picture in the corner of the screen, a picture of herself. Zazzalil’s account didn’t have a profile picture.

 

“ _ I just want you to know I’m not mad, _ ” Jemilla typed. Zazzalil let out the breath she was holding, let herself relax for a second before tensing again. Jemilla was okay with it?

 

“ _ Then what do you think about it? _ ”

 

“ _ I think you should try to stop doing it, of course. I still care about your safety, even if you’re the one who is causing danger to your safety. _ ” Jemilla paused for a second, then continued typing. “ _ In fact, that just makes me want to help you more _ .”

 

“ _ You don’t need to help me _ .”

 

“ _ Yes, I do. _ ”

 

“ _ No. _ ”

 

Jemilla deleted their conversation thus far, and then continued typing. “ _ Why don’t you like me? _ ”

 

Zazzalil stared at the screen. She didn’t really have any reason to not like Jemilla, other than the shallow reason of “you’re popular and I’m not”. She couldn’t just say that she’s hated Jemilla because she has more friends than Zazzalil. “ _ Didn’t you say you didn’t like me too? _ ”

 

“ _ I used to think you were just a bad kid, and I didn’t think people were safe around you, _ ” Jemilla paused, and Zazzalil started typing a rebuttal. Jemilla deleted what Zazzalil began typing. “ _ But I’ve seen now that you’re not a bad person. You just have problems and I want to help you fix them _ .”

 

“ _ You can’t fix a person _ .”

 

“ _ But you can help them. Why don’t you like me? _ ” Jemilla asked again.

 

Zazzalil closed her eyes for a minute, before opening them and staring down at her keyboard. “ _ I don’t know _ .”

 

And it was true. Zazzalil didn’t know. Jemilla was a fine person, she was kind and caring, she was intelligent, wanted to help people, and gave Zazzalil a chance. She wasn’t mad that Zazzalil was responsible for the fires, she wanted to help Zazzalil with it instead of turning her into the cops.

 

“ _ So can we be friends? _ ”

 

“ _ I don’t know _ .”

 

“ _ How about you give me your answer at the end of the period? We can work together on the short scene _ .”

 

“ _ Okay. That works. _ ”

 

So Jemilla deleted their conversation and they started working on the scene together. It was both peaceful and tense, Zazzalil was comfortable enough with Jemilla when working, but she knew that at the end of the period, she had to decide whether she should get over her nonsensical grudge for Jemilla or not.

 

The more they worked and the more minutes that ticked by, the more Zazzalil was sure of her answer.

 

“Shakespeare wrote tragedies, though, so shouldn’t this be a tragic scene?” Jemilla was asking, eyebrows knit in confusion and deep thought.

 

“Well, do you want to write a tragedy? We just have to get his general writing style down.”

 

“Do you think the genre of a writer counts as part of their style?”

 

Zazzalil thought about it for a moment. “Well. I don’t know.”

 

“It’s like,” Jemilla gestured vaguely with her hand. “Shakespeare wrote  _ Romeo and Juliet _ , a tragedy. Most people think of that play as his most famous, and so when you hear ‘Shakespeare’, you think ‘tragedy’. Right? So it should be a tragedy.”

 

“I guess that’s true. Yeah, okay, let’s write a tragic scene. Should it be romance? Since  _ Romeo and Juliet _ is also a romance story.”

 

“...Is it  _ really _ , though?”

 

“What?” Zazzalil and Jemilla made eye contact for a second before Zazzalil looked back at her laptop.

 

“Well, I mean, sure, Romeo and Juliet were in love, but is it really a romance if it doesn’t work out in the end?”

 

“I think it’s like a ‘the journey is more important than the destination’ thing. Like, no, it didn’t end up working, but they still loved each other, and so it was a romance story.”

 

“Is it more about tragedy or romance, though?”

 

“I think the two go together,” Zazzalil pondered after a moment. She forgot all about the tense energy from earlier, focused more on her debate with Jemilla. It was comfortable, like this was what they were meant to do.

 

The debate wasn’t out of dislike for each other, either. It was as if they were working together for a more favourable outcome, not wanting their  _ own _ opinion to win out in the end. Almost as if they were friends. Zazzalil pretended she didn’t like that thought as much as she did.

 

“I guess you’re right. So it should be a tragic romance, is what I think we just decided?” Jemilla asked. Zazzalil nodded.

 

“Yeah.”

 

The bell rang before they could even start work on the scene. Hidgens said a quick bye to the class as they filed out the door to start their weekend, whereas Zazzalil and Jemilla stayed in place, taking their time while they put away their things.

 

“So, Zazzalil…” Jemilla said when all her things were tucked in her bag. “I think we’re working together pretty well, and so…” she smiled. “Are we friends?”

 

Zazzalil zipped her bag, looking up at Jemilla as she slung it around her shoulders. “I guess we are. See you Monday.”

 

Zazzalil left the room, unable to resist smiling to herself.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zazzalil finally has a good day, but she won't admit to anyone that she thinks the day went well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longer chapter to make up for the last one. also, we hit 10k words! no clue how much landmarks are left to hit, but i guess we'll see.

The text came later on that Friday, when Zazzalil was browsing the internet mindlessly.

 

“ _ Wanna hang out with me and my friends tomorrow? We’re going to the park. If you go, bring Keeri along too. _ ”

 

Zazzalil stared at her phone screen until the words didn’t even make sense anymore. Jemilla, who was now her  _ friend _ , wanted her to go to the park with her and her other friends.

 

Zazzalil was ashamed with how fast she decided her response.

 

“ _ Sure _ .”

 

“ _ Awesome! I’ll pick you up from your apartment around six tomorrow. See you then!” _ The text was punctuated with two smiley face emojis. Zazzalil thought it was corny, but she was never one to use emojis, so maybe she was just biased.

 

“ _ See you. _ ”

 

-

 

Zazzalil didn’t even  _ think _ about starting fires for the rest of the night. She woke up at noon on Saturday and immediately remembered the text from the previous night.

 

She reached over to her bedside table to pick her phone up, but instead, she grabbed her box of cigarettes. She held them in front of her, staring at them for a while.

 

She missed starting fires, so maybe she should just burn something small.

 

Picking up her lighter, she lit up one of the cigarettes. She pressed it to her lips for a moment, almost coughing and gagging at the taste - but hey, the cigarette is right there, she might as well smoke it.  _ God _ , Zazzalil thought,  _ I’d be shit with peer pressure _ .

 

Zazzalil reached under her bed and pulled out an old notebook. She ripped out a blank page, staring at it for a second. The last fire she started was  _ huge _ , and now she was right back to where she started - burning paper.

 

Not giving it a second thought, Zazzalil pressed the lit portion of her cigarette up to the paper. It only sparked a little bit, burning a small hole through, and Zazzalil briefly considered using her lighter. She shot the idea down quickly, as she learned that burning things with her lighter only succeeded in burning things she actually  _ cared _ about. Like her skin, one time.

 

Zazzalil kept pressing the cigarette to the paper until there were numerous holes burnt through it and her cigarette was almost completely burned out. She blinked, tossing the burned paper on the ground, and smashing the cigarette into her ashtray.

 

The clock on her table read that it was already two o’clock - since when did two hours pass? She did tend to get caught up with burning things sometimes though, so it wasn’t very surprising.

 

Zazzalil’s eyes kept traveling back down to the paper beside her bed, and then back to her lighter. The more she thought about burning more paper, the better of an idea it seemed.

 

Eventually, Zazzalil found herself sat on the sidewalk outside her apartment with her notebook and her lighter. The wind was cool, blowing harshly on her skin. She left her hoodie inside.

 

Shivering, Zazzalil ripped a few pieces of paper from the notebook and clicked her lighter, pressing the flame to the corner of the papers, then tossing them on the road in front of her when they caught fire.

 

Zazzalil glanced around nervously, then back at the burning papers. She didn’t like burning things during the daytime, as anyone could see her starting fires and report her for arson. At least it was just paper, and it was her  _ own _ paper, so she technically wasn’t doing anything wrong. (If you didn’t count a seventeen year old owning a lighter to be wrong.)

 

Later on, Zazzalil realized that she had burned all the paper in the notebook. There was a collection of dust and ashes in front of her on the road, which slowly blew away with the wind.

 

Speaking of the wind, Zazzalil was  _ freezing _ . She wrapped her arms around herself, closing her eyes tight. It was only November, why was it so cold out?

 

“Zazzalil, what are you doing out already?” A voice called from Zazzalil’s left, and she recognized it as Jemilla’s. “It’s freezing out.”

 

“I was burning some papers,” Zazzalil admitted, because there was really no point in lying.

 

“And you left your jacket inside?” Jemilla asked, crouching down and sitting next to Zazzalil. Zazzalil nodded, then shivered. Jemilla just sighed. “I’m wearing a sweater under this, you can have my jacket.”

 

Zazzalil couldn’t help but look over to Jemilla, who was taking her jacket off and handing it over. “You don’t have to do that.”

 

“I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

 

Zazzalil was starting to figure Jemilla out, and that meant she knew she couldn’t argue with that. “Fine.”

 

The jacket in question was warm and covered in faux fur. It was way too big for Zazzalil, who noticed for the first time how much smaller she was than Jemilla. It also smelled good, and Zazzalil figured that she’s just never paid attention to the way Jemilla smelled, because that’s creepy.

 

“Okay, now come on, I walked here from my house, and the park isn’t too far away. Do we need to get Keeri?”

 

“No, she’s driving there herself.” Although Zazzalil really wished she wasn’t, because she felt like this walk was going to be awkward.

 

“Alright, let’s go.”

 

The walk there wasn’t as awkward as Zazzalil thought it would be, but it wasn’t really  _ comfortable _ . Zazzalil felt like she had to fill the silence with something, whereas Jemilla seemed perfectly fine with the quiet. They couldn’t get to the park soon enough.

 

Right when Zazzalil thought the park was in some other state, she and Jemilla arrived. The rest of their friends were already there, Keeri included. They were all sat around a picnic table, many of them wrapped in blankets.

 

“Hey, guys!” Jemilla called, quickening her pace as she came closer to the group. Zazzalil hurried along as well, not wanting to be left behind. She pulled Jemilla’s jacket closer to her.

 

“Hey!” Emberly yelled back, scooting closer to Grunt so as to make more room for the two new arrivals. “I brought pizza. It’s not homemade, but I felt like I needed to bring _ some _ thing.”

 

Zazzalil sat beside Keeri at the very edge of the table, while Jemilla sat next to Emberly, right across from Zazzalil.

 

“Zazz, did you get a new jacket?” Keeri asked. Zazzalil looked up to Jemilla, but she was talking to Emberly.   
  


“No,” Zazzalil pulled the jacket tighter when a breeze blew past. “It’s Jemilla’s.”

 

“Oh my God,” Keeri laughed, hugging Zazzalil with one arm.

 

“Okay, anyway, help yourselves to the food,” Emberly said, gesturing to the pizza box in front of them.

 

The group ate together for a while, talking about random subjects whenever they were brought up. Zazzalil didn’t make many contributions to the conversation, but she felt like she might just fit in.

 

“Hey, Zazzalil,” said Tiblyn, “is that Jemilla’s jacket?” Tiblyn glanced over at Jemilla as well, but Jemilla just looked slowly over to Zazzalil.

 

“Um,” Zazzalil glanced from Tiblyn to Jemilla, and then looked down at the table. “Yeah, I forgot mine inside and didn’t want to go back to my apartment to get it.”

 

“Hell yeah,” SB said, smiling like an excited dog. “Sharing!”

 

The group’s conversation turned to something about SB, and Zazzalil vaguely followed it, but mainly just paid attention to how Jemilla reacted.

 

Jemilla seemed to be like the leader of the group. Everyone tended to listen to her the most out of everyone else, but even though she had more power over everyone, she acted more like a servant than a leader. She always catered to everyone else’s interests over her own.

 

“What do you think, Zazzalil?” Schwoopsie asked, and Zazzalil realized that she wasn’t paying attention.

 

“Um, sorry, about what?”

 

“About Hidgens’ project. Do you think it’s fun?”

 

“Oh, um, yeah, it’s okay. Not the most interesting thing, but I like it.”

 

“You and Jemilla are partners, right?” Schwoopsie continued. Jemilla smiled shyly over at Zazzalil.

 

“Yep. Who’s your partner?”

 

“Oh, I’m in sixth period, so it’s not anyone in the group.”

 

Zazzalil’s eyes ran over the people in the group, she knew who everyone’s partners were for Hidgens’ class, except… “Is Grunt in Theatre History?”

 

Grunt looked up from his and Emberly’s own hushed conversation. “Oh, no, I’m not. I like theatre, but I’m not too interested in history.”

 

“My Grant is a loser,” Emberly could barely finish her sentence without bursting into giggles, smashing her face into Grunt’s shoulder. A blanket was covering the both of them. It was painfully adorable.

 

“You two are going to give me a cavity,” Tiblyn rolled her eyes. “Although you are super cute. I wish I was dating someone.”

 

Zazzalil looked over at Tiblyn and Chorn beside her. “What about…” She trailed off.

 

Tiblyn looked at Zazzalil, seemingly knowing exactly what she was asking. “We’re just friends. Chorn is awesome, but I think me and them are better as friends.”

 

Chorn nodded, but Zazzalil raised an eyebrow. “ _ Them _ ?”

 

“Oh!” Tiblyn exclaimed. “Right, that’s important. Chorn is non-binary, and they would prefer if you used they/them pronouns.”

 

“Tiblyn and Chorn are definitely dating,” Ducker said, making Tiblyn lean over and gently slap him. “Just telling what we were all thinking.”

 

Zazzalil and Jemilla’s feet touched under the table. Zazzalil jumped in surprise, looking over at Jemilla, but she didn’t seem to notice anything.

 

For the rest of the time at the park, Zazzalil tried to engage at least a little bit in their conversations. She learned at least a little about the group, and by the end of the meeting she felt like  _ yes _ , she was part of their group now.

 

“Remember to text me if you need anything,” Jemilla said when she had walked Zazzalil back to her apartment. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Zazzalil, and Zazzalil hesitated before wrapping her arms gently around Jemilla as well. “Can you try getting through the rest of the weekend without any fires?” Jemilla murmured beside Zazzalil’s ear.

 

“Maybe,” Zazzalil said, letting go of Jemilla as the other pulled back. The cool wind blew at her face, and she begrudgingly admitted to herself that she wishes Jemilla were still holding her. “We’ll see.”

 

“Alright, see you Monday, Zazzy!”

 

“Zazzy?”

 

“It’s gonna be my new nickname for you.” Jemilla shrugged, smiling down at Zazzalil. Zazzalil huffed.

 

“Okay, Milla,” Zazzalil responded after a second, because ‘J-Mills’ didn’t have the same energy as ‘Zazzy’ did.

 

“Glad we have names for each other. See you!”

 

“See you.”

 

Jemilla left Zazzalil alone on the doorstep as she started her walk back to her own apartment. Zazzalil watched her go, before staring up at the sky - it was already dark out. The blackness of the sky was dotted with a few stray stars. Zazzalil sighed, opening her door and walking inside.

 

She never took Jemilla’s jacket off that night.

 

And if she fell asleep in it, well, that was her business.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zazzalil's Monday goes from shit to pretty alright. That's probably the best it'll get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter again
> 
> shoutout to my friend annie who knows what's gonna happen at some point in this
> 
> lots of tgwdlm references in this one for some reason?

Zazzalil woke up late on Monday, but she managed to make it to her first period on time. The morning seemed to go by in a blur, and before Zazzalil knew it, it was already time for lunch.

 

Yawning, Zazzalil slid into the same seat she sat in on Friday, seeing that everyone else was already there.

 

“What’s wrong, Zazz?” Keeri asked. “You weren’t here this morning.”

 

“Woke up late,” Zazzalil murmured, resting her head on the table.

 

“Did you get sleep last night?” Jemilla asked, and Zazzalil swore she could hear her concerned expression.

 

“Yeah, just hard to get started on Mondays.”

 

Jemilla rested her head next to Zazzalil’s. “You could probably ask to go home. Your health is more important than school.”

 

Zazzalil turned her head to stare at Jemilla. “I can’t just say ‘hey, can I go home? I’m tired’. I can get through the last part of the day.”

 

“If you say so,” Jemilla said as she sat back up properly.

 

Zazzalil, apparently, could  _ not _ get through the rest of the day, as she ended up falling asleep on the table.

 

She was woken up later on when the cafeteria was completely empty. Everyone at the table had left, except for the person waking her up.

 

“Zazzy, Zazzy… oh, you’re up!” Jemilla was saying. “You fell asleep.”

 

“Yeah, I got that.” Zazzalil yawned, stretching. Jemilla was still sat next to her, smiling gently. “What time is it? It’s still lunch, right?”

 

Jemilla rubbed the back of her neck. “Um, it’s actually halfway through seventh period.”

 

“ _ What _ ?” Zazzalil exclaimed, not sure if she had heard her right. “Are we going to be in trouble now?”

 

“No, I talked to our teachers. I got Keeri to show me your schedule.”

 

“And you’ve just been watching me sleep?”

 

Jemilla coughed. “That just makes it sound bad. I was working on homework.”

 

Zazzalil rubbed her eyes. What the actual fuck was going on? “And how did the teachers agree to let me sleep in the fucking cafeteria?”

 

“Eh, student council president perks. I said you weren’t doing well and that I could watch over you, and they said that it was fine.”

 

“More like teacher’s pet perks.”

 

“Perks nonetheless.” Jemilla smiled down at Zazzalil. “We can probably just stay here until eighth period.”

 

“Well, I’m not going to complain about skipping class.” Zazzalil rested her head back on the table. “Oh, I still have your jacket. Do you want it back?”

 

“Nah, it’s too small for me. I’d guess it fits you just right, though.”

 

Zazzalil thought about it. “No, it’s actually way too big for me. I’ll take it, though.”

 

“Good, you looked cute in it.” Jemilla didn’t seem bothered by her comment, whereas on the other hand, Zazzalil coughed and stared in disbelief.

 

“I don’t look cute in anything. Have you  _ seen _ me?”

 

“I seriously beg to differ! I should’ve guessed you were the self-deprecating type.”

 

“Are you flirting with me?”

 

“I call it more of just complimenting you, but I guess you could say I’m flirting,” Jemilla raised an eyebrow. “Do you  _ want _ me to flirt with you?”

 

“You’re straight.”

 

“I’m bisexual.”

 

This conversation was venturing into dangerous territory. “Didn’t you date Clark?”

 

“I also dated Claire. And Schwoopsie and I had a thing in ninth grade.” Jemilla tilted her head. “What’s your sexuality? And have you ever dated anyone?”

 

“Um,” Zazzalil started. Was she really having this conversation? “I’m a lesbian. And no, I’ve never dated.”

 

“You and Keeri never…?”

 

“Oh God.” Zazzalil couldn’t help but laugh. “Nope. We did kiss before, but that was just like, an experimental thing.”

 

“Ah, that clears up a lot more than you probably think,” Jemilla chuckled. “Do you want to start heading to class?”

 

Zazzalil looked up to the clock, and saw that it was almost time for eighth period. “Yeah, sure.”

 

Jemilla and Zazzalil walked slowly to class together, making small talk about Shakespeare and Hidgens. Apparently, Hidgens had a really in-depth story that Zazzalil knew  _ nothing _ about. Jemilla entertained her with the bits and pieces that she knew.

 

“...And along with  _ Workin’ Boys _ , he also had a musical that he worked on afterwards. I don’t remember what it was called, but it’s about a town that slowly turns into a musical,” Jemilla was saying as they approached the door of the classroom.

 

“We should ask Hidgens about it,” Zazzalil remarked as the bell rang. She wished she didn’t notice how she was referring to the two of them as a pair, but she pushed it to the back of her mind.

 

After a minute of waiting for the previous class to file out, Zazzalil and Jemilla walked in and sat in their spots. “He’d probably keep us until seven to ramble about it, let’s not.”

 

“Hey, it’s something to do.”

 

Talking to Jemilla had turned easy at some point. It had been less a week since Jemilla found her in the alley, but in that short time, they had already grown so much closer. Zazzalil didn’t know what she thought of that.

 

The two worked on their project for the rest of the period. Although they did manage to finish the short scene in that time, they spent most of the class talking about Hidgens’ musicals.

 

Zazzalil felt happy, and if that was going to be the normal with Jemilla, she wasn’t complaining.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zazzalil has a couple startling revelations over the course of the week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the letter e on my keyboard broke so remember that every time you see the letter e it got there with my blood sweat and tears

That ‘normal’ with Jemilla didn’t last.

 

The following day in Theatre History, they had an argument on who was going to make the presentation.

 

“I can just do it myself,” Jemilla was avoiding eye contact, while Zazzalil tried to get their eyes to meet. “You wouldn’t take it seriously.”

 

“How the  _ hell _ did you get the idea that I wouldn’t take it seriously?” Zazzalil practically hissed it out, hoping that no one could hear their conversation.

 

“No offense, but you’re not the most serious person.”

  
“Neither are you. Didn’t you say you wanted us to work together one time?”

 

“I did,” Jemilla took a deep breath, finally making eye contact. “But maybe I just like doing presentations myself.”

 

“Well, you’re going to have to learn how to do it with me!” Zazzalil laughed dryly. “This presentation requires both partners to present.”

 

And for the love of God, for their first real argument, it was really fucking stupid. Were they  _ seriously _ arguing about who was going to do the project?

 

“Just, shut up, Zazz. I’ll do it myself.”

 

“Why do you want to do more work?”

 

“Because it’s less work on you.”

 

Zazzalil was taken aback so much that she was close to actually physically pulling back. “ _ What _ ?”

 

“Sorry. I just,” Jemilla sighed. “The fire thing. You should focus on that.”

 

“We’ve been working together for this entire project, why do you suddenly care about that?”

 

“We’ve been doing research. I can do the important parts for you.” Jemilla looked at Zazzalil sideways. “Don’t you hate doing work?”

 

Zazzalil bit the inside of her cheek. “Yes, but you can’t just do it all yourself.”

 

“I can. I don’t want you to be stressed.”

 

“And you’re okay with being stressed yourself?” Zazzalil wasn’t that good at cheering people up. “That’s like, a weird version of double standards.”

 

“Everyone else is more important than me, I have to be selfless. It’s my job as student council president-”

 

“Oh, bullshit, it’s ‘your job’. Can’t we just work together?” Zazzalil tried to look supportive, but she knew she probably looked sour.

 

Jemilla sighed, staring at Zazzalil. “Fine.”

 

They ended up working on separate parts, but they got the entire presentation completely  _ finished _ by the end of class.

 

Jemilla chuckled awkwardly as they shut their laptops down. “I guess Hidgens didn’t expect anyone to be done before the due date.” They were the only ones done, the other group closest only had research complete.

 

“I guess we work well together.”

 

“We definitely do,” Jemilla smiled down at Zazzalil. “You’re really cool, you know that?”

 

“What?”

 

“Sorry for earlier. I should’ve just let you help me in the first place. That was stupid of me.” Jemilla wrung her hands together, staring at the table in front of them as the class slowly trickled out.

 

“It’s fine,” Zazzalil said, smiling to herself slightly. “But, um, why do you think I’m cool? I’m a mess. I’m a bitch, I commit fucking  _ arson _ , I don’t know how to talk to people, I have shit grades… there’s nothing to like about me.”

 

The only people in the room were a couple kids Zazzalil never spoke to and Mr. Hidgens. “It’s like you said a while ago about your hoodie. You’re a disaster, but I like you despite that.”

 

Zazzalil looked up at Jemilla, who just smiled down at her. She was suddenly hyper aware of how she didn’t shower this morning, how her hair must be a mess, how she was still wearing Jemilla’s jacket - was her heart always beating this fast?

“I - I’m going to go now. See you tomorrow, Jemilla.” Zazzalil left the room faster than she ever had, immediately going to find Keeri. Jemilla called a quick goodbye from behind her, but she ignored it. 

 

“Keeri, Keeri, oh my God,” Zazzalil almost yelled when she saw Keeri in the hallway.

 

“What’s up, Zazz? You look like you’re dying,” Keeri remarked with a smile.

 

“It’s Jemilla,” Zazzalil said breathlessly.

 

“Of course it is.”

 

“I think, and don’t freak out, but I think there’s a small, tiny chance that I may or may not have a little crush on Jemilla.”

 

“Oh my God! I knew it. Finally.” Keeri giggled, and Zazzalil hit her arm. “Sorry, so, how’d you know? Like, when did you decide this?”

 

“She, she just said she liked me even though I’m a mess, and quoted some dumb thing I said last week, and I don’t know, but I just, yeah.”

 

“Are you sure this small thing isn’t, you know, a big thing? You seem awful hung up over Jemilla right now.”

 

“Keeri, for the love of all this is holy, don’t start with me.” Zazzalil warned. “I just need to get home and get some sleep, and this whole thing will pass by.”

 

“Sure it will.”

 

Sure it will.

 

-

 

No, it wouldn’t.

 

Friday rolled around and Zazzalil still felt weird whenever she saw Jemilla. Keeri was seemingly having the time of her life watching Zazzalil freak out over herself, whereas Zazzalil was about two steps away from just dropping out of high school.

 

“Hey, Zazzy, are you doing anything after school?” Jemilla asked during Theatre History. For the past few days they had just been adding final touches to their project.

 

“Nope, why?” Zazzalil could still play it cool even if she did have a small crush on Jemilla. She hid her feelings well (hopefully).

 

“You should come by my house. We can talk and play games and stuff. Like kids, or something.”

 

That  _ did _ sound pretty appealing. “Like, a sleepover?”

 

“Sure. That would be really fun.”

 

Zazzalil stared at nothing for a second. “Alright, I’ll come over. If you’re cool with walking me there, that is.”

 

“I drove to school today, so I’ll just drive you there instead.”

 

“That’s a better alternative,” Zazzalil joked. The bell rang.

 

Jemilla stood up, Zazzalil following. “We can go now, if you want.”

 

“Yeah, fine by me. I’ll just talk to Keeri first.”

 

“Alright.”

 

Zazzalil left Jemilla in Hidgens’ room and went out to find Keeri.

 

It wasn’t that hard, given that Keeri was right where she always was. “Keeri,” Zazzalil almost fell into the lockers. “Keeri.”

 

“Zazzalil, Zazzalil,” Keeri mocked. “What?”

 

“Jemilla is inviting me over to her house.”

 

Keeri turned to look Zazzalil in the eye. “Oh my fucking God.”

 

“I know, right? This is going to go wrong, I can feel it. This friendship between Jemilla and I is going down in flames, uh, no pun intended.”

 

“That wasn’t a pun, but okay.” Keeri looked past Zazzalil. “Here comes your girl now. Remember to use protection.”

  
“God,” was all Zazzalil could grumble before she turned to talk to Jemilla.

 

“Ready to go?” Jemilla asked.

 

“Yep.”

 

As Jemilla led her out of the school and into the parking lot, Zazzalil could tell it was going to be a long day.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zazzalil hangs out at Jemilla's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another shorter one i'm so sorry

Zazzalil got into Jemilla’s car, an old rusty truck. “I didn’t expect you to drive in a pickup. I expected more of like, a convertible.”

 

“Well, you expected wrong. What you see is what you get.” Jemilla laughed as she slammed her door shut and started the engine.

 

The car ride to Jemilla’s house was quiet, but comfortable. The November wind beat down on the windows while the old truck bounced up and down on the road, and Zazzalil felt like this car ride could go on forever and she wouldn’t even care.

 

That is, until they reached Jemilla’s apartment.

 

“Alright, here we are,” Jemilla said, stopping the car and turning it off. “We’ll have to go up to the top floor.”

 

“I forgot you live in a goddamn penthouse.”

 

“It’s not a ‘goddamn penthouse’, it’s an apartment.”

 

Zazzalil followed Jemilla into the building and onto the elevator. Jemilla leaned against the wall after tapping on a button, and Zazzalil stood straight up, not wanting to ruin anything. She wasn’t very good with other people’s property after she learned how much trouble you could get into for destroying it.

 

“Hey, Zazzy,” Jemilla said. “I like your hair.”

 

“Oh, um, thank you. I didn’t brush it this morning, though.”

 

“It looks fine anyway.”

 

Zazzalil ignored the way that she had to fight back a smile from the compliment, and instead focused on how the elevator car shook on its way up.

 

Finally, they reached the top, and the doors opened. Zazzalil followed Jemilla down the hallway and to a door, watching as Jemilla took out a key and unlocked it. Zazzalil definitely didn’t think Jemilla’s hands looked very soft, nope.

 

“And we’re here!” Jemilla exclaimed, swinging the door open. “Home sweet home.”

 

The apartment was small, but cozy. Picture frames hung from various walls, the TV was playing static, and there were pillows strewn randomly across the couch and chairs. “It’s cute.”

 

“Thanks - oh shit, I must’ve left the TV on, um,” Jemilla bounded forward, picking up a remote, and shutting off the television. “Whoops.”

 

“You watch TV in the mornings?”

 

“Sometimes. I wake up pretty early.”

 

“I wake up at like, noon.”

 

“I guessed that.”

 

Jemilla led Zazzalil into a room, pointing out various other places in the apartment along the way. Zazzalil looked around as the door shut behind her, and quickly deduced that it was Jemilla’s bedroom.

 

“I got homework to do quick, so, um, you can just sit wherever and do what you want. Sorry, I always do homework right when I get home,” Jemilla apologized, sitting in a desk across the room.

 

Nodding, Zazzalil sat on the bed. “It’s cool.”

 

So that’s how Zazzalil spent an hour of her Friday sitting on Jemilla’s bed, scrolling mindlessly through her phone and wondering how long it would take until Jemilla finished her homework.

 

“Okay,” Jemilla said, stretching as she put a few papers into a folder. “I’m  _ finally _ done. You want to watch a movie or something?”

 

“Oh, sure! That would be fun.”

 

“Alright,” Jemilla stood up, picking up a laptop that was charging on the ground. “I don’t own any actual movies that we can watch on TV, but I do sometimes download them off the internet. Illegally. Don’t tell anyone.”

 

“You think the arsonist is gonna call you out for piracy? It’s cool.” Zazzalil chuckled, but her breath caught in her throat when Jemilla sat next to her on the bed.

 

“Wonderful,” Jemilla laughed as she pulled the blanket out from under her, relaxing underneath it. “You can lay down under the blanket, it’s cold in here.”

 

It was cold in there, but was Zazzalil really going to lay next to Jemilla under a blanket? The answer, she decided, was yes, as she quickly laid down with the blanket over her. She wasn’t sure if the warmth was from the blanket or Jemilla beside her.

 

“Um,” Zazzalil began. “What are we watching?”

 

“Oh, I have this really cute movie, hold on.”

 

After a few minutes, a movie started playing on Jemilla’s laptop screen. Zazzalil couldn’t quite see it all because Jemilla was holding it too far away, so Zazzalil argued with herself for a second before shuffling closer to Jemilla, making sure they weren’t touching.

 

“Oh, sorry, you probably can’t see the screen that well,” Jemilla acknowledged. To Zazzalil’s displeasure (or maybe to her delight), Jemilla moved closer to Zazzalil, their arms and legs now pressed together with the laptop over both of their stomachs. “Christ, you’re cold.”

 

Zazzalil pretended that comment didn’t make her go dizzy for a moment. “Sorry, I guess it’s just cold in here.”

 

“Well, you’re not going to be cold on my watch.” Jemilla balanced the laptop on her thighs, then wrapped her arm around Zazzalil’s shoulders, pulling her closer. Their sides were pressed together, and Zazzalil prayed that Jemilla couldn’t hear her heart racing. “You should warm up soon.”

 

And so Zazzalil and Jemilla watched the movie together, cuddled close. Jemilla pointed out the scenes she liked, but Zazzalil found it  _ very _ hard to focus when she could feel every breath Jemilla took.

 

Zazzalil ended up falling asleep like that, shrinking into Jemilla, and letting herself enjoy the closeness while it lasted.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zazzalil has an interesting morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for some reason i got really into writing this chapter

“Zazzy, Zazzy…” Jemilla’s voice was slowly fading in and waking Zazzalil up from her slumber. “Zazzy - oh, you’re awake!”

 

Zazzalil’s vision was hazy at first, but she soon realized that she was still cuddling with Jemilla. In fact, they were now  _ closer _ than before, the laptop abandoned, Jemilla still holding Zazzalil close, and the worst (or best) part; Zazzalil’s arms were wrapped tight around Jemilla’s waist as if she were a teddy bear.

 

“Oh, um,” Zazzalil’s voice was groggy from sleep, and now embarrassment. “I’ll just-” She pulled away from Jemilla quickly, and Jemilla just laughed.

 

“It’s fine, I didn’t mind. It was cute.”

 

Zazzalil was going to set Jemilla on fire for that, or maybe she was going to set herself on fire. Either way, someone was going up in flames for making Zazzalil’s face that red.

 

“Well, um,” Zazzalil coughed, clearing her throat. “Thanks? I think.” She laughed, but it sounded more like a cry for help. It was.

 

“You’re welcome, I think.” Jemilla sat up. “Oh, it’s eight in the morning, by the way.”

 

“I literally have never woken up that early on weekends - hell, I don’t even wake up that early on weekdays.”

 

“Well, you know what it’s like now.” Jemilla pat Zazzalil on the shoulder. “You should’ve seen the sky last night. I got up to put my laptop on the charger and the sky was full of stars, it was gorgeous. I swear, the stars just turn off sometimes.”

 

Zazzalil ran her hands over her face. She briefly remembered the night Jemilla found her in the alley - there were no stars in the sky that night. She then pictured the sky, but dotted with white stars, all shining and shimmering like glow-in-the-dark paint splattered on a canvas. It was a nice thought. “I’m sure it was very pretty.”

 

“It was. I was going to take a picture, but I didn’t want to leave you alone for a second longer than I needed to.”

 

Okay, now what the  _ fuck _ was that. “Oh, um. That’s.” Zazzalil’s face was basically on fire. “That’s. Nice of you. Nice thing to say.”

 

Jemilla looked down at Zazzalil. Zazzalil caught a glimpse of her smiling. It was too early for this shit.

 

“I like seeing you embarrassed, hope that doesn’t sound too creepy,” it sounded less creepy and more flirtatious to Zazzalil, but she pushed away that thought - Jemilla was  _ not _ flirting with her.

 

But Zazzalil was a powerful woman, and that comment did sound awfully flirty. It was her right to know whether Jemilla was flirting with her or not, right? She called the shots in this friendship. Relationship. Whatever it was. “Are you flirting with me?”

 

“I might just be.”

 

“...Why?”

 

“Maybe I like you.”

 

Zazzalil looked up immediately to face Jemilla. In contrast to Zazzalil’s bright red complexion, Jemilla was just smiling coolly down on her. “You - you, what? What did you just?” Zazzalil stopped talking, as she had forgotten how to speak.

 

“I just said I might like you. I’m forward, sorry about that.”

 

If Zazzalil thought she just had a crush on Jemilla before, she was dead wrong, because she was now thinking that she was more in love with her than anything else.

 

“Jemilla, I…” Zazzalil trailed off, staring down at the blanket resting in between them. “I don’t know what to say.”

 

“Um,” Jemilla said quickly, “I’m sorry. I was, I was kidding. Just, forget that I said that.” Zazzalil’s eyes trailed back up to Jemilla’s, seeing panic in them.

 

Of course. Of course! It was just a joke. Zazzalil laughed once, then again, and she prayed that Jemilla thought that the tears in her eyes were from laughing.

 

“Well, I,” Zazzalil rubbed her eyes, forcing another laugh. “I should get going! Told, told Keeri I’d…” Zazzalil felt like someone had choked her. Her voice went small. “Told her I’d go to her place today.”

 

“Oh, do you need me to drive you?” There was something about Jemilla’s voice that made Zazzalil want to crawl into her bed and stay there. And actually, that sounded like a good plan.

 

“No, no, I don’t live too far, I’ll walk.” Zazzalil got out of the bed, almost tripping over her own feet as she walked away. “See you Monday.”

 

“See you.”

 

Zazzalil walked slowly out of Jemilla’s apartment, then into the elevator. She pressed the ‘floor’ button. She waited until the elevator car started moving. Then she smashed her face into her hands and sobbed.

 

What the fuck was she doing? She was standing in an elevator car crying like a baby over a girl as if she were twelve years old. She had bigger problems than Jemilla rejecting her, she was a fucking arsonist for Christ’s sake. She was graduating in half a year. And she was crying over a girl she’d been talking to for less than two weeks.

 

The elevator doors opened, and Zazzalil quickly rubbed her wet face on her - Jemilla’s - jacket. She walked quickly out of the apartment building, then stood outside the doors and pulled her phone out.

 

She scrolled through her contacts until she found Keeri’s name. “ _ Keeri come pick me up _ .”

 

She received a response a few minutes later, very grateful for Keeri’s morning dance classes. “ _ Where are you _ ?”

 

“ _ I’m at the apartments on sixth street. You don’t need to get me though, I know you have dance in like, half an hour. _ ”

 

“ _ If you think I’m going to go to class over go get you you’re nuts. On my way. _ ”

 

Zazzalil locked her phone and shoved it back in her pocket. She sat on the ground, rubbing her face with the back of her hand. Her eyes were stinging, but at least she wasn’t still in tears.

 

She started crying again when she thought of Jemilla. God, she was a wreck.

 

Keeri pulled up to the curb, leaning over in her seat and opening the passenger’s side door. “Holy shit, Zazz, are you okay? What happened?”

 

Zazzalil sat in the seat, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Jemilla.” She punctuated it by slamming the door shut with as much force as she could manage. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Keeri cringing from the feeling. Of course, it was her mom’s car, she’d get in trouble if the door broke.

 

“Okay, back seat, now.” Keeri climbed up in her seat and slid into the back seat (with some trouble, she was tall). Zazzalil followed, almost immediately falling into Keeri’s chest and sobbing. “What did Jemilla do?”

 

“It’s - it’s dumb.”

 

“I doubt that,” Keeri kissed Zazzalil on the forehead. “If you’re crying, it’s serious. No matter what it is.”

 

“It’s just, she was, like, flirting with me, and I asked why,” Zazzalil sniffed, rubbing her eyes. “And she said she liked me, and I was like, ‘I don’t know how to respond’, and she said, that it,” Zazzalil sobbed again. She couldn’t even form a proper sentence. “She said it was a joke and to forget about it.”

 

“Oh my God,” Keeri whispered, pulling Zazzalil in closer. Zazzalil sobbed into Keeri’s chest. “I’m  sorry, I don’t know why she would just mess with you like that.”

 

“I  _ know _ !” Zazzalil cried out, muffled from pressing into Keeri. “I fucking hate her, but, I can’t just, stop liking her.”

 

“So you still like her?”

 

Zazzalil pulled away for a second, rubbing her eyes. She rested her head on Keeri’s shoulder. “Yeah, and I hate it. I hate that. I want to hate her, but I can’t. I wish I could go back to when Jemilla and I hated each other.” Zazzalil started to mumble. “At least now I’d have a reason to hate her.”

 

“But you don’t hate her.” Keeri rested her head on Zazzalil’s. “You’re just mad, and upset, and that’s okay.”   
  
“I want to burn something.”

 

Zazzalil felt Keeri sigh gently. “We should find a new stress reliever. We should do something together to get your mind off of Jemilla. Do you want to come to dance with me?”

 

Zazzalil wanted to sleep more than anything. “No, sorry. I just, I don’t know. I’m tired.”

 

“Hey, that’s fine.” Keeri smiled against Zazzalil’s hair. “I’ll drive you back to your apartment and you can go to sleep. I’ll come back to your place when dance is over. Is that okay?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s good.”

 

“Alright, you just hold on for a few minutes.”

 

Keeri climbed back into the driver’s seat and began driving to Zazzalil’s apartment. Zazzalil stayed in the back seat, staring outside the window. The sky was overcast and dark. Figures.

 

When Keeri pulled the car to a stop, Zazzalil opened the door in the back seat and practically melted out of the car. Keeri held her up and walked her into her own apartment room and then into her bedroom, laying her on the bed.

 

After the blanket was draped over her, the blinds were pulled, and Keeri shut her door and left, Zazzalil just laid there. All she could think about was Jemilla. No matter what she tried to think about, it always came back to Jemilla.

 

Zazzalil must have laid there for half an hour before she fell asleep, but even then, it was restless. At least it was something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was listening to cheesy love songs while writing this one sue me


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zazzalil and Keeri talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just, i just really like how this chapter turned out

The rain beating down on the windows was what woke Zazzalil up.

 

Keeri was sat across the room in a beanbag chair, scrolling through her phone. She looked up when Zazzalil’s bed creaked. “Zazz, you’re up! Oh - I took your ponytail out, hope you don’t mind.”

 

Zazzalil felt her hair - her ponytail  _ was _ taken out. “What time is it?”

 

“It’s around five in the afternoon. I’ve been here for like, the whole day. Are you feeling any better?”

 

“I still want to burn something.”

 

Keeri sighed, walking over to Zazzalil and sitting next to her on the bed. “You know you need to stop setting fires.”

 

“I know that. I just - I just can’t.”

 

“Yes, you can, I believe in you-”

 

“No, I  _ can’t _ !” Zazzalil yelled, thrusting her face down into her hands. “I can’t.”

 

“Do you want me to go?”

 

Zazzalil looked up at Keeri. “No, no, sorry. Stay here.”

 

“Okay, I will.” Keeri pulled Zazzalil in, holding her tightly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“I’m just so fucking mad at her, she, she just said to my face that she didn’t like me,” Zazzalil listened to the rain for a moment, before continuing. “I’m not even good at hiding it, doesn’t she know? She should know I like her, right?”

 

Outside, thunder crashed, shaking the apartment. Zazzalil closed her eyes, and continued talking. “I just really liked her. I know it’s immature but I really, I really thought she might like me back. She’s the first person I’ve ever really liked.”

 

“Maybe you’ll get over her. You’ll forget about it and you can move on. It’s just one girl.”

 

Zazzalil sighed silently. “I don’t want to.”

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t want to forget about Jemilla. She just - I’m so mad at her right now, but I still, I still like her. I liked how she liked me, as a friend.”

 

Keeri rubbed Zazzalil’s back. “She’s been texting you. While you were sleeping.”

 

“She has? What did she say?” Zazzalil couldn’t help but get excited about what Jemilla might have to say to her, no matter how upset she was.

 

“I don’t know, here’s your phone.” Keeri reached over onto the bedside table and handed Zazzalil her phone. Zazzalil unlocked it, seeing four unread messages from Jemilla.

 

Zazzalil read them out loud to Keeri. “ _ Do you want to hang out again tomorrow?” “Zazzalil? _ ” “ _ Did I do something wrong? Sorry if I did.” “Why aren’t you responding? Zazzy? _ ”

 

Keeri laughed. “She’s pretty obsessed with you.”

 

“She’s, she’s not. She just thinks I would respond sooner because I usually respond the second I get the notification.”

 

“That’s cute.”

 

Zazzalil almost started to type out a message, but stopped. “Should I text back? What do I say?”

 

“I don’t know, just say ‘hey’ or something.”

 

Zazzalil typed out the quick greeting and sent it before she could second guess herself. The reply came soon after. “ _ Zazzalil! Why weren’t you responding? I was getting worried. _ ”

 

Zazzalil almost started crying again. “What the  _ fuck _ does she mean by that?” She whined. Keeri stifled a laugh and rubbed Zazzalil’s back again.

 

“I don’t know everything. Just say you were sleeping.”

 

Zazzalil sent the message, almost immediately receiving a reply. “ _ You slept for, what, fifteen hours at my house and now you’re asleep for even more? Are you feeling alright? _ ”

 

“ _ Just tired _ .” Because she  _ was _ tired. She was very, very tired.

 

“ _ You should check that with a doctor, you might be sick. I care about you.” _

 

Zazzalil sighed in defeat. “ _ I know _ ,” she responded. She let her phone slip from her hands and onto the blanket, and then let herself fall into Keeri.

 

Keeri held her like that for what felt like hours but was really just ten minutes, before she gently pushed her off. “I’m going to go back home now, text me if you need anything, alright?”

 

“I will,” Zazzalil said, nodding. She watched as Keeri pressed a kiss to her forehead and then left.

 

Zazzalil didn’t go back to sleep. Zazzalil just sat and stared at the floor until she thought it would crumble beneath her feet and take her with it. She was mad, and not at Jemilla. She was mad at herself for getting so caught up in  _ relationships _ , out of anything else. She was mad that she was turning this small, stupid comment into something that ruined her life.

 

Most of all, Zazzalil was mad that she let herself fall in love in the first place.

 

Jemilla was stupid, she was a stupid popular idiot, and Zazzalil fucking loved her. Her and all her little friends took Zazzalil in and gave her a group to feel welcomed in and Zazzalil  _ hated it _ .

 

She wanted to burn something. Oh God, did Zazzalil want to burn something more than ever. She wanted to see the world burst aflame and see all the buildings crumble into ashes and see that dumb November wind blow it all away. 

 

She wanted to see that stupid alleyway lit up and burning bright, her hiding place tucked away among the orange and gold flames, burning up that memory of her meeting with Jemilla with it.

 

She wanted the black ashes of her town to sprinkle over the dirt like moon rocks and the orange sparks to fall on top like bits of stardust.

 

So Zazzalil stood up from her bed, grabbed her lighter, and slammed shut every door she exited. Zazzalil wanted to see the world aflame, and god dammit, she was going to make at least one of her wishes come true.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zazzalil gets her wish.

The rain was beating harder on the asphalt as Zazzalil ran. She didn’t know where she was going - somewhere that she could burn. She needed to see  _ something _ aflame.

 

Thunder cracked, splitting the sky in two for just a second. Zazzalil shivered in the rain, pulling her jacket closer.

 

The jacket. The jacket was Jemilla’s. Zazzalil tore it off, clicked the lighter, and set the flame on the fabric. she tossed the jacket on the ground. Was her face wet from the rain or was she crying? She didn’t register much.

 

It was dark out already. There wasn’t a single star in the sky, the only light sources were coming from the burning jacket and the lights of the town.

 

The jacket was burnt to a crisp before her. She shook her head, continuing to run to the unknown location that she just  _ had _ to get to.

 

Zazzalil’s arms were freezing without the jacket around her. She only had thin pants and a tank top on, and despite the smarter part of her screaming to go back home and crawl under her covers, she kept running.

 

Everything seemed to be making her mad. Her mind was as far away from Jemilla as it could be, and yet it was still set on nothing but her. Zazzalil was a living contradiction. That made her mad as well.

 

Zazzalil fell to her knees in an alleyway. She heaved, legs and chest aching from the activity. When her vision stopped spinning, she looked up. The rain hit her cheeks and splashed into her eyes, but she just stared forward. She was in the alleyway,  _ the _ alleyway. Maybe that’s what made her the angriest. Maybe it was how she made mountains out of molehills that made her the angriest.

 

No matter what was the cause of her anger, both caused her to click her lighter and set fire to the dumpster.

 

The entire dumpster was set aflame, burning high and bright. Zazzalil backed herself up into the wall opposite the fire. The fire was spreading to the boxes.

 

Zazzalil saw herself sat there between those boxes and that dumpster. She pictured herself shaking as the fire trucks blared and flashed, and as that fire right outside flared and burned. That fire was her doing, and so was this one. Zazzalil was responsible.

 

In the distance, sirens started crying out that familiar sound. Zazzalil tried to stand up, to run, to get away like she used to, but every attempt just seemed to pull her back down to the floor.

 

And that past Zazzalil hiding in the boxes was gone. She ran out of the alley to safety, while the Zazzalil in the present backed herself desperately into the wall.

 

A pile of burning boxes fell to the ground, sparks flying and hitting Zazzalil’s legs, burning through the fabric of her pants. Zazzalil shrieked, trying again to back farther into the wall behind her, but all she did was scratch through her shirt and cut her back.

 

The flames were burning closer and closer. Where did the rain go? Shouldn’t the rain have washed away the fire? Zazzalil prayed that the rain would beat down and save her. But praying never got her anywhere before, and it wasn’t getting her anywhere now.

 

The sirens in the distance seemed to fade as they grew louder, turning into background static. All Zazzalil could hear was the crackle of the flames and her own thoughts screaming at her. Zazzalil realized, in horror, that she didn’t want this. She didn’t want any of this.

 

And Zazzalil cried.

 

Zazzalil cried for for Keeri, for the alleyway, and for that stupid school project. Zazzalil cried for her past self, for her present self, and for her future self (that version of Zazzalil didn’t seem to exist, and maybe that’s why Zazzalil wailed louder).

 

Mostly, Zazzalil cried for Jemilla. She cried for the way she held her, the way she talked to her, the way her eyes lit up when she smiled. And oh, did she cry for how Jemilla couldn’t save her now.

 

A week ago, if you asked Zazzalil what she’d want her last words would be, she’d scoff. Now, she’d just say she wished there was someone to hear them.

 

And with that thought, Zazzalil’s vision faded to black.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe everything will be okay, but maybe it'll also be horribly wrong. Zazzalil doesn't really know (nor does she care, at this point).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter? impossible  
> the story might be drawing to a close soon! not that anyone cares lmao

Zazzalil opened her eyes.

 

The first thing that greeted her was  _ white _ . The room was so white. She had to squint to see anything, but maybe she should’ve kept her eyes closed all along.

 

She was in a hospital room. Medical equipment surrounded the room, and one look down at herself made it all too real.

 

She was covered in bandages, and from what she could see in the non-bandaged areas, she was burnt. Badly. Her body ached and her head spun with memories of the fire. Her eyes were still stinging from the tears.

 

The door opened. Zazzalil panicked for a moment, but it seemed to just be a nurse. “Ah, Zazzalil, you’re awake.”

 

“I-” Zazzalil coughed and spluttered. Her voice was ruined, scratchy, and it hurt to make sound. She swallowed and stared up at the nurse.

 

“Don’t strain yourself,” the nurse said. “You’ve been sleeping for a full twenty-four hours and your lungs are injured from the accident.” The accident. So that’s what they were calling it. “Once you’re healed enough to walk and speak properly, you’ll be serving in court. You’re still a minor, though, so you may not have much to worry about.

 

“I’m Maizie. I’ll be your nurse during your stay here,” Maizie’s voice was soft and caring, but Zazzalil couldn’t help but distrust her.

 

“Do-” Zazzalil coughed, and her voice fell to a whisper. Maizie moved closer to hear her. “Do you know who, who started the fire?”

 

Maizie smiled, embarrassed. “Well, I don’t know. But the police believe you started it.”

 

“I didn’t,” Zazzalil coughed out, desperate to trick Maizie into believing her.

 

“I don’t want to get political with you,” Maizie took a deep breath. “And I’m not even going to provide any testimonies. I won’t be in the courtroom during your time there.”

 

Zazzalil sighed silently. “Okay,” she whispered. “Has anyone tried to visit?”

 

“No, but you’ve been closed to visitors. Do you think you’re well enough to accept visitors yet?”

  
“I-”

 

“Actually, I’ll just check your vitals. If they’re normal enough, you’ll be open to visitors, but you’ll also have to go to court tomorrow. I’m required to report when you’re in well enough health.”

 

Maizie checked Zazzalil’s vitals, pressing various machines and contraptions to her. A few minutes later, Maizie stepped back. “You’re good. I’ll open you to visitors. You can ring me up by just pressing this button…” Zazzalil stopped listening as Maizie rambled on about the room, as if following a script.

 

Maizie was gone before Zazzalil knew it, and after half an hour, her door opened.

 

“Zazz! Zazz, oh my God,” Keeri cried as she practically fell into Zazzalil. Zazzalil winced and whined in protest, making Keeri hop back. “Sorry, I’m just-” Keeri wiped her face; was she crying? “I’m just so happy that you’re okay.”

 

“Yeah, I’m alive,” Zazzalil whispered, “and I have to serve in court tomorrow.”

 

Keeri looked like she was going to sob. “Oh my God, oh my God. I don’t have money to bail you, and you have no witnesses to help you, oh shit. Zazzalil, I’m freaking the fuck out.”

 

“It’s, it’s fine,” Zazzalil was convincing herself more than Keeri. “I’m still just a minor, no one died, and all that was destroyed was literally trash. I should be fine.”

 

“That’s right,” Keeri murmured, “you can’t even go to federal prison as a minor, right? You’ll be okay, you’ll just be in jail, and we can find someone rich enough to pay the bail, and it’ll all be okay. It’ll all be okay.”

 

Zazzalil wished Keeri was right.

 

-

 

The time seemed to fly by, most of it just Zazzalil and Keeri sitting in silence. After some time, Keeri left, and Zazzalil went to sleep again. She was woken up my Maizie.

 

“You have court in an hour.”

 

And Zazzalil was wide awake. She blinked a few times, coughed, then looked up. “Fuck,” she said, and it was the first word she said that wasn’t a whisper.

 

Maizie helped Zazzalil to her feet, took off the bandages that weren’t serving much purpose anymore, and gave her back her clothes. “I’ll leave you alone to change. You can walk fine, and so I’d assume that you can have the energy to change your clothes. I’ll be right outside the door if you need me.”

 

Zazzalil stared down at her clothes when the door shut. It was the tank top and pants from the fire. Two days ago? Time didn’t quite make sense anymore.

 

Sighing, Zazzalil changed out of the hospital gown and into the clothes. They were stiff and uncomfortable, but they felt homely. Her clothes were as burnt as her skin, and Zazzalil wasn’t sure if that was bad for her clothes or her skin.

 

The next few hours went by fast. Maizie led Zazzalil outside and into a police car, where she was then driven to a courthouse, and led into a courtroom. She sat silently where they placed her, only speaking when directly spoken to, and only in short, stilted phrases.

 

She plead guilty, and was then pulled through many other places, before finally finding herself sat in a jail cell.

 

And there she sat, alone, a seventeen year old who finally got her due punishment for all the times she played with fire.

 

She must’ve sat there for an hour until a guard came to her cell. “Your bail’s been paid.”

 

Zazzalil stared as the door fell open and the guard gestured for her to leave.

 

“You’re lucky that someone paid it,” the guard was saying as he led her down winding corridors. “It was a lot of money to pay.”

 

If you asked Zazzalil what she expected to see waiting for her in that jailhouse, she wouldn’t know. But if you told her it would be Jemilla, she would cry.

 

That’s probably the reason Zazzalil felt tears running down her face.

 

“Zazzalil, oh my God,” Jemilla whispered, running forward and grabbing Zazzalil, pulling her into a tight hug. “I was so fucking scared.”

 

“You, you paid the bail,” Zazzalil muttered in Jemilla’s ear.

 

“My stepmom did,” Jemilla’s hands rubbed against Zazzalil’s back, and Zazzalil realized just how much she missed Jemilla. “And she’s waiting outside for us. We got your paperwork filled out with the help of your parents, but your parents had to go, so it’s just me and Molag.”

 

Zazzalil almost whined when Jemilla let go of her.

 

A few minutes later, after signing her name on a few documents, Zazzalil found herself now sat in the back seat of a Honda Civic with Jemilla, and her stepmom, Molag, in the front.

 

Time finally slowed back down to normal for Zazzalil when Jemilla wrapped an arm around her shoulders.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zazzalil is doing better.  
> Much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello  
> i am  
> SO SORRY OJKJGDKFGHK I DONT HAVE AN EXCUSEEE  
> im so sososo sorry for not updating in so long it's almost been a month im so sorry ohmygod  
> pleasedonthateme-
> 
> but this is the last chapter before the epilogue which i'll probably get out later tonight

Life went back to normal after Molag dropped Zazzalil off at her house.

 

She went to school like normal the next day, and she talked to her friends, and she didn’t start any more fires.

 

Unfortunately, ‘normal’ seemed to mean nothing happened with Jemilla. Sure, Jemilla worried about her at times (“I’m completely fine now, you don’t have to worry,” Zazzalil would say), and she’d compliment her (“My hair always looks like this, stop complimenting it,”), and she’d talk to her every time she saw her in the halls (“Milla, we are both late to class right now,”), but nothing out of the ordinary.

 

The final day before Christmas break was when their project for Theatre History was due. They ended up getting a 98 on it, one of the best grades in the class.

 

“You’re probably the reason we didn’t fail,” Zazzalil joked as she zipped her bag up.

 

“Nah, we did it all together, you deserve as much credit as I do.” Jemilla watched as Zazzalil threw her bag on. “Anyway, do you mind staying after school with me for a little while? I have to do something.”

 

“Oh, sure. Why? What are you doing?”

 

Jemilla shifted on her feet. “Just some stuff in the choir room.”

 

Jemilla didn’t explain further, and Zazzalil didn’t ask any more questions.

 

As it turned out, Jemilla needed to wait an entire half hour after school in order to do whatever it was she needed to do in the choir room.

 

“Um, Milla, the school is, like, completely empty. Are you going to go to the choir room now?” Zazzalil asked as she walked back to Jemilla. She had just gotten her sixth drink from the water fountain.

 

Jemilla grabbed Zazzalil’s hand. “Yeah, okay, you’re right. Come on,” and with that, she pulled Zazzalil along to the choir room.

 

“Woah, wait,” Zazzalil yelped, quickening her pace to keep up with Jemilla. She tried not to think about how she was holding Jemilla’s hand. “Why am I going?”

 

Jemilla didn’t answer, instead continuing to pull Zazzalil into the choir room. She slammed the door shut when Zazzalil stepped in, then shoved Zazzalil’s back up against the door, pressing their lips together.

 

Zazzalil stared at Jemilla’s face, not bothering to kiss her back as she attempted and failed to understand the situation.

 

Eventually, a voice in Zazzalil’s head whispered ‘fuck it’ and she was kissing Jemilla back.

 

It’s not like Zazzalil had never thought about kissing Jemilla before. However, she always got flustered when she tried to think about how she would taste. Now, though, Zazzalil could taste cherries and the sky and clouds on Jemilla. She tasted like dreams and a campground when all the bonfires are out. She tasted of all Zazzalil could’ve wanted, but Zazzalil knew she tasted like cigarettes and smoke.

 

Jemilla pulled away, panting. “Okay,” she began, licking her lips (Zazzalil didn’t freak out, she didn’t). “Okay, so, that was uncalled for.”

 

“It, um, well, yeah. It was good, I like, I liked it.” Zazzalil tripped over her words as she pressed her palms to her face, feeling the warmth of them. Her face was probably bright red.

 

“Good,” Jemilla laughed weakly. “I’ve been waiting ages to kiss you.”

 

“Why didn’t you?”

 

“I thought you hated me.”

 

Zazzalil laughed. “Oh my God, I’ve had a crush on you for so long. I don’t think I ever really hated you.”   
  


“Well, I hope not.”

 

Jemilla smashed their lips together again, having to lift Zazzalil up and push her against the door to be of equal height. Zazzalil wrapped her legs around Jemilla’s waist and crossed her ankles, pulling Jemilla closer.

 

Zazzalil forgot where she was when Jemilla pressed her fingers into her waist and then up and under her shirt, but was then suddenly reminded that they were making out in the choir room of all places.

 

“Wait, wait,” Zazzalil said, pushing Jemilla away. Jemilla didn’t put her down, but her hands slipped back out of her shirt. “We’re - we’re still in public.”

 

“Don’t care,” Jemilla mumbled, pressing their lips back together again. 

 

Somewhere in her throat, Zazzalil whined. Her mind was foggy, clouded over. She couldn’t think straight. If anything, the only thing in her mind was the fact that almost every inch of their bodies were touching.

 

Maybe there was just too much on her mind and they all blurred together. For sure, all of the thoughts were about Jemilla.

 

“Milla,” Zazzalil breathed, disconnecting their mouths. Jemilla pressed her lips to Zazzalil’s jaw, making Zazzalil whine and cross her ankles tighter together. “Jesus.”

 

“I love you,” Jemilla whispered into Zazzalil’s ear. Zazzalil shivered, whole body seemingly weak.

 

“I love you too.”

 

Jemilla put Zazzalil back on the floor, keeping her steady. “God dammit, Zazzalil, you’re going to be the death of me.”

 

Zazzalil smiled crookedly, stumbling on her feet for a second before reaching up and pressing a kiss to Jemilla’s cheek. “So are we dating now?”

  
“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

 

“No shit.”

 

Jemilla rolled her eyes, leading Zazzalil out of the choir room.

 

-

 

“So you really do like me?” Jemilla asked. They were sat atop Jemilla’s bed a few hours after the choir room fiasco.

 

“Pretty sure I do. What’s more surprising is that  _ you _ like  _ me _ .”

 

“Why is that?”

 

Zazzalil sighed, falling back onto the soft mattress. “You’re so much better than me. You’ve got tons of friends, perfect grades, your life together… and I’m just  _ me _ .”

 

“Well, I like  _ you _ . You might not have many friends and you have shit grades and you’re generally a mess, but I still like you. A lot. I love you.”

 

Zazzalil fought a smile as her face heated up. “That’s cheesy.”

 

“Besides, grades and friends don’t even matter. And if you’ve got me in your life, then I can hopefully help you out with everything.” Jemilla fell beside Zazzalil, an arm swung over her chest. Zazzalil rolled over to face Jemilla.

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you too.”

 

Jemilla pressed their lips together softly.

 

Zazzalil saw stars.


	17. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thousand and one nights wasn't going to be enough to spend.

Zazzalil looked up to the sky above her, bright and orange. She smiled when she saw the dim stars littering the vast expanse of space, too many to count, despite how it was only sunset. Everything was silent, save for the quiet whistle of the wind in the trees.

 

Her last few years had gone remarkably well. She had Jemilla, after all.

 

They were out of school. They moved into a house together. They were happy.

 

“You stargazing again?”

 

Zazzalil looked to the side at the sound of Jemilla’s voice. “Yeah. Just thinking about school.”

 

“Need some company?”   
  


“You know I do.”

 

Jemilla laid next to Zazzalil in the grass. Zazzalil continued staring up at the sky as it slowly darkened. The oranges faded over time into purples as they lost track of the time.

 

“I hate how we met each other,” Jemilla mumbled. Zazzalil turned in the grass to face her, signaling her to continue. “We could’ve been better if we had just met earlier. I could’ve helped you.”

 

They didn’t like to talk about Zazzalil’s arsonism. Zazzalil’s recovery was going so well without mentioning it, but the very implication that Zazzalil might start another fire was enough to make Zazzalil feel like all those years of recovery were for nothing.

 

“It doesn’t matter now. It all turned out okay.” Zazzalil rolled into Jemilla’s side, smiling slightly as Jemilla’s arm wrapped around her. “And for the record, I think we met at the perfect time.”

 

“Of course you think that. And you call me the cheesy one.”

 

They lay together in silence. The wind died down to a whisper as the sky darkened, soon pitch black. They had a bad habit of losing track of time when they were together.

 

“You want to get back inside?” Jemilla asked, combing her fingers through Zazzalil’s undone hair. She left it out of her ponytail more after graduation.

 

“Yeah. I need to beat your ass in  _ Monopoly _ .”

 

“Knowing you, you’re going to do many things to my-”

 

“Don’t even finish that sentence.”

 

Jemilla and Zazzalil got up out of the grass together, hands interlocked and sides brushing together with every step.

 

The pitch black sky was left behind as they made their way back inside. The sky was clear of clouds, making the moon and all the stars shine brighter than ever before.

 

Zazzalil didn’t need to start any more fires when that night sky had so many stars to light up the way.

 

And it wasn’t her fault that Jemilla’s eyes had a hundred constellations in them anyway.

 

She was happy. ☆

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so it ends!
> 
> thank you so much for reading this, this is actually the first full length story i've finished. it's been a wild ride and there's definitely some things i could edit/change but i'm going to leave editing this until i have a higher skill level in writing.
> 
> i might start another jazzalil fanfiction with a demons/angels au but it's quite a big project so i don't know when/if i'll get to it.
> 
> thank you again for being here for the ride. i hope you have a very good day/night :)


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